Prophetic Dreams
by Ambrelle Shirak
Summary: A parallel story arc to Feral Bindings. A young precognitive telepath catches the eye of the Brotherhood boys. But she is running from something bigger and scarier than these boys are used to. CreedOC
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Out of this story, I only own Kylie. Everything else is property of Marvel Comics. Kylie's story arc takes place during Season 3, between the episodes of "Self-Possessed", and "Lock and Key."

Jeep Premonitions

"It's an eighty-four, Wrangler." Lance corrected as they drove by the beat up vehicle in question. "Off-road edition, guarantee it's a five-speed manual tranny, auto-locking hubs, and some severely gnarly four-wheel drive action."

Todd favored the driver with a slow, withering glance. "What matters is that it's been there for two days now."

"What's so unusual about that?" Pietro harrumphed, leaning his front passenger seat back a little further, squishing Todd back into an ever-shrinking space.

"It's got no ticket on it!" Todd snapped as if everyone would notice something like that.

"So?" Freddie picked up on Todd's annoyance, and tried to edge his massive bulk further away. He only succeeded in angering Wanda, who was crammed in on the Blob's opposite side.

"It's a two-hour spot… there should at least be a ticket on it," Todd watched out the window as they left the hunter green Jeep in the dust. It was two blocks from the school, in Bayville, New York, with Montana license plates!

Todd opened his mouth to comment on that, but decided against the further ridicule of his fellows. No, he'd just sneak out of class, and head back towards the vehicle. He had a sneaking suspicion about it, something that made his nose wrinkle. The school part would be the easiest, but he'd have to manage it without Principle Kelly finding out. He pondered that on the remainder of the ride, hanging on to the oh-shit handle for dear life as Lance spun and sped to school.

When he managed to find a break during lunch, Todd sprung with his powerful, toad-like legs, over the back fence to the school; he winced as he figured the punishment that was going to be on its way. But with each hop that drew him closer and closer to freedom, and satisfying the morbid sense of curiosity, he felt more and more content with his decision to ditch classes.

The Jeep was still there when he arrived around the corner, but what was parked behind it, caused him to freeze and backpeddle, pressing himself thin against the side of the building. The police car didn't have its lights on, but it was nonetheless parked behind the Montanan Jeep. And the officers within it didn't look too happy. Todd peeked around the corner, his eyes wide as he watched the tableau unfold before him.

As the officers approached the Jeep, one from each side of the vehicle, Todd noticed that there was a foot sticking out of one of the windows. Clad in a colorful sock, it looked almost like the foot of a child, petite and small. As the officer peered in the window, he immediately leapt back. The sound of ferocious barking filled the air, barely muted by the Jeeps windows. In the back seat, a large dog raged at the cops around the car. The foot in the window moved, withdrew and the dog's barking quieted.

Todd strained to make out what was being said. The girl, as she sat up, could have been no older than Todd himself. Her hair was dark, and curly, attractively tousled and mussed from what appeared to be an interrupted nap. From this distance, Todd couldn't make out many other features, except for the dark, heavily circled eyes. She was leaning over, presumably for her license and registration, but as she straightened, both cops leapt back with shouted curses.

Todd's eyes nearly fell out of his head as the sharp report of a pistol broke the silence. One cop fell into the street, clutching at a spot near his left shoulder. The other leapt out of the way as the Jeep roared to life, and drove up over the curb. Down the sidewalk, it bolted, directly towards Todd's vantage point. Todd swore, and dove further back into the alleyway. The squeal of tires, and a sharp bark caused him to look back over his shoulder.

There, stopped at the head of the alley, was the Jeep. The girl had thrown the door open and was gesturing to him.

"Quick!" she ordered in a weary, oddly calm voice. "They'll be after you too, if you don't come with me now."

Todd glanced at the giant dog in the backseat, and again at the pretty girl offering him sanctuary. He weighed his option and leapt into the passenger seat. The girl made no response as he pulled the door shut behind him; she hit the gas, feathered the clutch and burned rubber as the wail of sirens rose around them. The dog in the back was smart; he flattened himself down against the seat to resist the rocking and swaying of the Jeep as it spun around corners and sped through stop signs.

The young mutant marveled, as she seemed to always be one step ahead of the police. His heart lodged in his throat as she gunned the engine, and jumped a curb. Glancing around, Todd recognized where he was, the back lot of the school. She was tearing up the soccer field; her hands moving as quickly and easily as artist's hands as she locked the vehicle into 4-by. She went directly through the football field, and into the woods. He was forced to hold on with both hands as she took out young saplings, forded two streams, and finally came to a sedate rest after she broke through a clearing onto an ancient cow-path.

Todd was breathing heavily as he stared in awe at her. She continued to ignore his presence as she turned around in her seat to check on the animal, whimpering softly in the back. She scratched the dog's ears and whispered to him. With a sigh, she turned to Todd, smiling gently and shaking her head.

"I'm sorry you had to see that…"

Something in her tone made Todd's heart stop. He frantically searched for the door handle, trying not to take his eyes off the girl, or the gun she had tucked beneath her thigh. But her hands remained calmly on the steering wheel, her gaze locked with Todd's fearful one. The giant dog in the back was stretching, sniffing the air, and then he poked his immense, sleek head over the seat to sniff at Todd's sleeve.

"If I were going to kill you, Todd Tolensky, you'd already be dead," she said calmly, as if that would assuage his fears.

Todd blinked, and pulled his hand away from the door. "Hey, how'd you know my name?" He managed to sputter through his waning fears. "And what the hell just happened back there?"

"They weren't cops," she said carefully, glancing around. "My name's Kylie… Kylie McManus. And that's Max." She chuckled affectionately as she reached out and scratched the big dog's head. Todd noticed how carefully she didn't answer his questions. "Look, I should really get you home; they always find me. It's really better if you just forget everything you saw."

"Woah! Wait, I can't forget that! You _shot_ that guy!" Todd noticed that the dog began to growl, as he got agitated. He took a long deep breath, and calmed himself down as best he could. "You shot a cop… you're running from something… and how do you know my name?"

Kylie rubbed the bridge of her nose, pinching the space between her eyes like she had a headache. "I'm a prophet… a prognosticator if you would." She opened her eyes again, and shifted sideways in her seat. "You're a toad… a mutant… what-have-you… I had a vision. _That's_ how I know you." She drew a deep breath. "They weren't cops. No badges, no identification. I've been running long enough to know what to look for. I didn't even kill it, just set it back a little."

Kylie scowled, and banged her palm against the steering wheel as she twisted back in her seat. "Look, I don't have to tell you this… I need to get you to your home, and then I'll be on my way."

Todd opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off as she gunned the engine again. The cow-path was bumpy and ill-kept, and the Jeep jostled and bounced even as she was taking it slow. "K-kylie… one more question?" He finally managed to ask.

"Besides that one? Sure, shoot."

"Why'd you pull me off the street?"

She glanced at him, sidelong, a ghostly smile playing at the edge of her lips. "Because they would have killed you if I hadn't."

"It's nothing special," Todd muttered as he eyed the old building they approached. Three stories of cracking plaster (courtesy of Lance's temper), and half-squashed furniture (thanks to Fred's obesity), it crouched between two not-much-brighter homes in one of the lower class neighborhoods.

Kylie eyed it with a sense of longing. "It's better than nothing, Todd." Her tone was so somber, so quiet, that it gave Todd a moment of pause.

"Yeah…" he nodded as he popped the Jeep's door open. "I suppose it is." He hopped down and eyed her with the door still open. "You sure you don't wanna come in?"

Kylie hesitated. That was the last question from her vision; it was up to her now to choose her own fate. She glanced in the back at her dog, and the mutt's liquid eyes stared back at her. "Can Max come too?"

Todd's face lit up, a flashing smile that fled as quickly as it appeared. "Sure!"

She slid out of the Jeep, and shifted her seat forward, letting Max jump down with a happy bark. The giant dog romped around in the driveway, stretching his limbs and playing a merry game with himself. As Todd rounded the front of the Jeep, he watched Kylie pull down her shirt over a waist-holster that concealed her pistol. A small lump formed in his throat, and he worried about her for no reason.

He was tempted to grab her hand, and pull her inside, but he refrained, curbing his enthusiasm. The others were already home. As quietly as possible he opened the door, only to look onto the living room filled with his fellows. Freddie had a 2L bottle of soda clasped in one meat hook, and a 3ft sub in the other. Wanda was calmly shuffling her deck of Tarot cards, her dark eyes harboring even darker hatred. Lance had the television set occupied with a video game. Pietro seemed to be at rest, his head tilted back against the sofa cushions.

But Pietro never rested. In a flash and blur, he was blocking the doorway. "And what kind of stunt did we pull today?" he demanded.

Todd's mouth opened as he hurried to make up a lie, but a hand fell on his shoulder and he remembered Kylie.

"It's my fault," she interjected as she came up beside Todd. If she was intimidated by Pietro, she hid it extremely well. At the sound of her voice however, every set of eyes was upon her in the room.Kylie took a deep breath, and idly scratched the large dog's head. "Todd was kind enough to be concerned about me… even if he didn't know it was me." Kylie offered Todd a little smile, as the teen tried to puff up and be macho. "He just… happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I pulled the stunt. I… had to shoot someone in self-defense…"

Pietro's eyes narrowed. He didn't believe a single word of it. His cold gaze focused on Todd, gauging his reactions. The boy definitely believed her. The others were beginning to draw away from their activities, milling around and trying to get a good look.

"Can I just show her around, yo?" Todd asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Kylie's eyes were focused on the floor, her hand ruffling the short thick black fur that covered Max's back. There was a battle of wills taking place here, and Kylie didn't like it in the least. "It's easiest if I just go," she murmured to Todd, reaching out to place her hand on his shoulder.

Todd, startled, looked up, and suddenly straightened from his defensive crouch. "Well… I…" His yellowed eyes shifted suddenly back towards the others. She was already moving towards the door when he gathered the rest of his nerve to speak. He hopped after her, catching her wrist as she exited. "Will I ever see you again?"

Kylie looked back and smiled softly. "I don't know, Todd… I really don't know." She offered him a smile as she gently pulled away from Todd's hand. Before Todd could think of anything to say, she was gone.

He turned back to the house to find everyone, watching him expectantly. Pietro had a snide grin, and couldn't help but chuckle at the youngest mutant's expense. "Toady's got a crush," he chortled quietly.

Todd refused to answer, and hopped resolutely up the stairs, and into his room.

Max whined, leaning over the back seat to lick Kylie's ear. She batted his giant muzzle away and cautiously pulled the jeep over to the side of the highway. The giant dog dove out the open back before she could even get out. Kylie chuckled, as he perused a short length of highway for a good spot to mark. She leaned against the jeep and idly wished that she had something to drink.

Max turned suddenly, and began to bark, his deep-throated snarl echoed over the empty highway. Kylie turned as he began to run directly towards her. Looking around, she saw nothing amiss, until she looked up…

He was flying… Wearing a cape that drifted in the gentle breeze, he looked like something out of a vampire-movie. Kylie reached for her pistol, only to find that it wasn't in it's holster. It too hovered six feet in the air, by the man's right hand. Slowly, he lowered himself to the ground, and the pistol floated into his right hand.

"Good evening, Kylie," he said with a smile, reaching up, and removing the dark purple helmet from his head.

Kylie was relieved to find he looked completely normal. His eyes were pale blue; his hair was snowy. He was old enough to be her father, a thought that suddenly made her shiver. She quickly found her wits.

"Good evening, sir," she responded, as she knelt to grab Max around the neck before he tried to take out this guy's jugular.

"I am Erik Lensherr." He knelt as he spoke, purposefully staying on Kylie's level. "I have heard much about you… and I am prepared to offer you sanctuary from your troubles."

Kylie's heart fluttered. "I… I can't possibly…"

"You are running from something; I understand that. But the safest place that you can be is surrounded by mutants, like yourself, who can help and protect you." Lensherr did have a convincing argument, and Kylie liked the idea of having a home for once. "You have three days, my dear. Just return to Mystique, and the Brotherhood. You'll hear from me again."

With a thought, he was in the air again, rising through the clouds. Kylie leapt forward to grab her pistol lest it too disappear from where he had been. She looked back at Max, and sighed. The dog was staring into the clouds, as if he could will the stranger to float back down.

"Come on, handsome," she said to the beast. "Let's go find a culvert to bed down in for the night. We have a lot of thinking to do."

_Huge arms engulfed her. Blood. Sweat. Musk. The scents assaulted her. Safety surrounded her. Fear was within her. Muscles rippled, a hand cupped the back of her head. Eyes met eyes. She could never forget that face. "Don't worry, frail… I ain't never gonna let anythin' hurt ya."_

Kylie's eyes snapped open to daylight. Max lay curled up in the front seat still, as she sat up in the back. Rolling her neck, she tried to work the kinks out of it. There was definitely more and more reasons popping into her head that she could head back to the Boarding House. She only worried about her pursuant. He had destroyed her life before, and he wouldn't balk at another chance to do the same. Kylie used the roll-bar to pull herself out of the jeep. Max leapt out, joyously wagging the stump of his tail, and snapping his jaws at a passing butterfly.

"Alright, Max," Kylie sighed as she approached back from the woods. "Next river we find, I'm taking a bath!" The dog leapt up, placing his paws on her shoulders and licking her face. Kylie laughed at the slobbering dog and took his paws in her hands, to dance with him for a moment or two. Finally, she let him back down to the ground. Scratching between his ears, she dried her face with her sleeve. "Okay, big boy, which way are we going?"

Kylie prided herself on the big mutt's training. He padded to the road, and first looked one way, then the other. Max whined softly, and Kylie came up beside him. He was looking back down the road from whence they had come. She scratched idly behind his ears to comfort him. "You wanna go back too?" He scratched his paw in the dirt, and barked, once. Kylie fancied he could really understand her. "Yeah, I'm scared too."

She walked back to the jeep, reflecting on the words of Erik Lensherr. Max jumped into the back, and settled down. Kylie ran her hands thoughtfully over the dash, and steering wheel. The mutt's liquid brown eyes reflected her own dark ones as she turned to look at the dog.

"Even if we only get to stay two nights, Max…" she whispered. "It'll be two less nights of running… and two nights with a roof over our heads."

Max barked, and wagged himself so furiously that he nearly fell off the seat. Kylie giggled, and started up the jeep.

Todd flung his tongue again, spearing the buzzing house fly on the end of the sticky muscle easily. Swallowing, he savored the flavor as it slid down, it's wings tickling the inside of his throat. He chuckled softly, and stretched; it was almost midnight. Time to bunk down; he figured he'd need his strength at school tomorrow. Just as he had reached the bottom of the stairs, a light knock roused his interest at the door.

He didn't hesitate to swing the door open, and broke into the widest grin he could manage. "Kylie! I knew it! Wanda comes through again!"

Kylie responded with a shy smile, shifting the giant duffel bag on her shoulder. Max, the giant black mutt, slavered at her feet. "Hey Todd," she managed before he had grabbed her hand and yanked her inside.

He suddenly found it impossible to keep still, as he hopped in circles around her, tugging her this way and that. Kylie laughed softly, and for the first time in years, felt like she was truly coming home.


	2. Chapter 2

New School Blues

_Look at her._

_Ooh, check out the new girl!_

_Skinny… leggy… she'd make a great cheerleader if she were taller!_

_Oh, my… GOD, there goes Duncan!_

Kylie struggled to keep the barrage of impressions out of her head. She wished she wasn't so curious; she wished she didn't want to fit in so badly. She wished that she could just walk straight and not worry about bumping into anyone.

_Too bad she's already hanging out with the wrong crowd,_ the thought came loud and clear, like a bell, and Kylie slowly turned to set eyes upon the principal. Mr. Kelly stood in his office door as Lance and Todd led around Kylie. She kept stumbling, as Lance tugged her first one way, then Todd responded by pulling in the opposite manner. Her dark eyes widened as Kelly retreated into his office, and she was forced to face around forward again.

"And down this hallway's the cafeteria," Lance was chiming. "And out that door and across that lawn is the science building… the uh, soccer field's still kinda toast right now."

"No thanks to us," Todd inserted with a proud sniff. He reached into her backpack and pulled out the schedule. "So… wow! You got some smarts, yo!"

Lance suddenly brightened, and sped up his pace. Kylie was mildly interested to find the object of his quest was a petite brunette in a pink cardigan. "Hey, Kitty!"

Todd sighed and tugged on her sleeve. "C'mon, homeroom is this way," he sounded slightly bitter. Kylie glanced back over her shoulder as she allowed Todd to lead her away. Lance was obviously not having any luck talking with the object of his affections.

She followed Todd quietly, still listening to some of the thoughts that she passed by. One girl she walked by, a tall, leggy redhead, was a complete blank slate. Kylie would have paused for a moment to regard her longer, but Todd's tugs got slightly more urgent.

"Hey! Tolensky!" a gruff voice called out.

Todd froze, and moved to hide behind Kylie as they turned. Kylie could see the redhead watching from her locker, while a trio, led by a burly blonde in a football jacket, approached with closed fists.

"I see you've found yourself a girlfriend, Toady," he sneered, eyeing Kylie appraisingly.

"She ain't my girlfriend, Duncan!" Todd defended from behind her legs.

"Good, then she won't mind if I pound your face!" Duncan placed his hand on Kylie's shoulder to push her out of his way. But she refused to budge, grabbing his thick wrist with both of her hands.

"I may not be his girlfriend… but I am his friend," Kylie said quietly. "So, I suggest you leave him alone."

Duncan seemed astonished that a girl would stand up to him. But he refused to bend, and pushed a little harder on her shoulder. Kylie bent slightly under the pressure, and partially released his wrist. With two fingers, she reached forward and jabbed them up under his armpit. Duncan yelped, and let her go.

"What was that?" he cried indignantly, holding his numb arm.

Kylie simply put her hand on Todd's shoulder. "Let's go," she said, gently leading him further away. "Have I ever mentioned that I hate jocks?" She spared one glance back over her shoulder, meeting the redhead's emerald eyes coolly.  
They continued in silence again, as Kylie keep half an eye out for the football jocks to try something else. Her mind was so busy wandering all over the school that she didn't even notice that Todd had stopped hopping to talk with someone. He grabbed her hand and pulled her back to reality.

"Hey, Earth to dreamer girl! Kylie, you in there?" Todd was laughing at her expense; Kylie blushed a deep crimson, and hid behind the dark corkscrew curls.

"Oh, wow," Todd's companion, breathed. "She is… I mean, you are very pretty."

Kylie blushed even deeper. He was young, probably closer to Todd's age than hers, with raven hair and a bright wide smile. He clutched his books to his chest, as if protecting himself from something, or perhaps protecting her.

"Ky, this is Kurt," Todd waved his hands around by introduction. "Kurt, this is Kylie. She's stayin' at the Boardin' House."

"Oh," Kurt seemed to be at a loss for words suddenly. He nearly dropped his books at the bell rang just overhead. "Ah! I'm gonna be late!" He ran off at top speed, sliding around the corner as he ducked into his classroom. The bell, like a firehouse alarm, rang for thirty seconds, while Kylie swayed slightly on her feet.

_The heat was tremendous, a blazing ball of napalm dropped directly on top of her. Wreckage was strewn all around, shrapnel, bits of cars, bits of people… a strip of smoldering cloth drifted down before her eyes. A hand reached through the fire, burning, blackened and crisping. The stench of burning flesh made her gag. Tearful blue eyes stared at her from a living column of flame. Kylie fell._

"Ky? Ky?" Todd was leaning over her, his arm looped under her head. "Hey? Hey, you with me?" He brushed her hair from her face as her dark eyes fluttered open.

She drew in a deep breath, and shuddered to the bone. Patting Todd's hands, she sat herself up slowly. She shuddered again and rose shakily to her feet. "We… we're goin' a be late." She pulled at his hand, removing it from her shoulders. It took her another few moments to get the courage up to walk, and even longer to shake the vision from her mind.

"Amazing, Miss McManus, you have incredible talent," Mrs. Keyes leaned slightly over Kylie's shoulder as the girl continued to smudge charcoal around the paper with her fingers. The teacher continued to hover as Kylie ignored her, wishing only to be left alone. Her dark eyes lifted from the paper for a brief second, connecting with a pair of green eyes staring at her across the table.

"Thank you," she muttered under her breath, turning her attention back to the portrait she was working on. She darkened the area around the eyes with a few quick strokes, and wished the teacher would just go away.

"When you are finished, may I sho-"

"No!" Kylie didn't even let her finish, hunching a little further over her project. "No," she repeated in a softer voice. "I don't want anyone else to see it."

The teacher straightened with a quiet harrumph, and Kylie closed herself off by trying to capture the perfect degree of… bestiality in the charcoal drawing. Kylie worked feverishly, her shoulders aching from protecting her art from those around her. Suddenly, she was aware of the redhead across the table standing up, and peering over. Kylie's heart stopped in her throat as those green eyes widened slightly in recognition. Accusingly, Kylie lifted the front of her paper, curling it over to block the other girl's view.

"Excuse me?" Kylie asked, her voice touched with irritation. "Something I can help you with?"

The redhead smiled. It was the same one who stood by and watched, while that jock had tormented Todd. Her smile was popular-perfect, and Kylie fought the urge to sneer in her face. "You're new, aren't you?"

_Rocket scientist, aren't you?_, she was tempted to answer. She bit back the response, and attempted to smile in return. "Kylie."

"My name's Jean," the redhead flashed that dazzling smile again. "She's right you know, Mrs. Keyes, is. You have an amazing talent; you shouldn't be afraid to show it off."

Kylie suddenly raised her brow, cocking one high over her eye in an expectant manner. The girl never continued, as the lunch bell rang. Kylie was quick to bundle her things up, throwing her duffelbag over her shoulder and vacating the room before the redhead could pursue.

She ran into Lance in the hallway, nearly fumbling and dropping her sketch in her astonishment.

"Hey," Lance steadied her with a hand. "What's the rush? Don't like the school?"

Kylie shook her head slightly, letting her curls fall forward over her shoulders. Behind her, the class was emptying out slowly. Jean turned in Kylie's direction, then seemed to think better of the action. Kylie noticed that she and Lance exchanged knowing looks, before the upperclassmen disappeared down the hall.

"I get it," he continued. "You let Ms. Popular rattle your cage." He grinned and looped his arm around her shoulders, leading her towards the cafeteria. "Let me let you in on a li'l secret…" He leaned over and whispered into her ear.

Kylie's eyes widened with joy. "Really?" She smiled then, feeling much better about things. "That explains a lot; I had a suspicion."

Lance let his arm drop from her shoulders, laughing with her now. "Come on, we gotta get to the café before Freddy eats all the food!" He picked up his pace, running a little as he dodged and wove between people. Kylie kept up easily, her smaller size making for easier passage in some places.

The café was littered with kids, both upper- and lowerclassmen lingered in and about the lines. Two swinging glass doors led out into the campus, where twenty or so picnic tables waited. Already, Duncan's crowd was seated outside, while Jean's red hair stuck out like fire among the crowd, inside.

Fire. Kylie's eyes tore from the thought as she fell into line behind Lance. Her appetite took a huge dive as she eyed the offered foods. She caught sight of Todd, and Pietro, and Wanda, and almost wished she could avoid all of them too. Todd smiled broadly, and waved her over with a long arm. Kylie returned his smile, shyly, and touched Lance's shoulder to get his attention.

"I'm… not very hungry, Lance," she admitted quietly. "I'm just going to go sit down."

Lance gave her a worried glance, but nodded. Kylie slipped out of line, and threaded her way through the crowd quietly. Todd scooted closer to Wanda as she approached, making room on the bench for her. Kylie rested her dufflebag on the table, threw one leg over the bench, and proceeded to slide her sketchbook inside. Wanda was watching her carefully; Kylie avoided eye contact, though she could hear the other girl's thoughts as clear as day.

_I don't know what your gig is girl, but you're really starting to annoy me._

Kylie wrapped her arms around her duffle, and hid her face in the canvas. She felt Todd's hand on her back lightly, but it was gone in seconds. She screwed her eyes shut and sent her consciousness out, looking, feeling, skimming over students' thoughts. She extended her perceptions beyond the school, and felt _them_ lingering around. Biting her lip, she opened her eyes, and looked directly at Lance. Her heart lurched.

His eyes were blue.

"Please, Lance, you just have to trust me," Kylie pleaded with him on the way to chemistry class. "We need to take a different route to the boarding house after school."

"I don't understand why," Lance returned, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. "The quickest way home is up the interstate. It'll take us over an hour going up the back roads."

"God, Lance, please," Kylie grabbed his arm, stopping him in the middle of the hallway. "Don't make me outline this for you…" He continued to stare at her blankly, and she pulled him off to the side. "I had a vision."

Lance arched a brow. "A vision?" he repeated.

"I watched you die." Kylie didn't temper the blow. Lance's face drained of color. "The jeep was on fire, and so where you…" On the edge of her perception, something moved. Turning slightly, Kylie realized that it was her mental perception that was shifting. _They_ knew where she was again. She bit her lip. "We need to take a different route to the house…"

Lance grabbed her shoulders. "You're scaring me, you know that?" He leaned down until his gaze was level with hers. "But I trust you, so the long way home it is."

Kylie breathed a sigh of relief, and let Lance lead her the rest of the way to chemistry.

"So because of Kylie's warning, we're going to take an hour to get home instead of twenty minutes?" Pietro refused to get in the truck. "I can run faster than that."

"So run, then," Kylie snarled from the front seat. Her patience was about run out; she leaned over and rummaged around in the bag at her feet. Withdrawing the 9mm from the bottom of the bag, she checked the safety and tucked it under her leg.

Lance climbed into the driver's seat. "I for one, am not going to risk that she's telling the truth." He adjusted the rear view as Todd and Wanda wedged themselves in beside Freddy.

Pietro shrugged. "I'll see ya at home then!" Kylie squinted against the gust of wind that rose up around him. He moved faster than the eye could track him, and was gone in moments. Kylie found his pseudonym QuickSilver quite fitting.

She glanced into the back seat, where Wanda had resolutely crossed her arms and taken to staring out the window. "Let's get going, Lance," Kylie said quietly. "Max isn't used to being inside; he's probably going nuts."

Lance smiled, but the smile faded as Kylie pulled the 9mm out from under her leg, to rest it on her lap. She watched the roadside as it passed by, her eyes nervously darting around. She was expecting trouble.

Lance pulled the Jeep into the driveway, and cut the engine. "See Kylie, nothing happened. You're just paranoid."

Kylie hopped out of his jeep, and threw her duffle bag into her Wrangler. She tucked the gun into the waistband of her jeans, and looked around. Her eyes closed as the rest of the Brotherhood began to pile out of the vehicle. Todd stretched, cracking the joints in his back and shoulders. As Kylie's eyes opened, she looked around at the others.

"Where's Pietro?"

Wanda's brow furrowed; her brother wasn't out here gloating about their long trip. She was the first to move toward the house; Kylie ran to catch up with her. Wanda's hand had barely touched the door, when it swung slowly open. Her dark eyes widened, and she covered her mouth. Kylie pushed past her.

Pietro lay sprawled on the floor, barely past the entrance. A bright scarlet trail threaded through his platinum white hair. Kylie stepped around him delicately, letting Lance and Freddy take care of him. She felt tremors start in her hands, her limbs shaking as she moved slowly through the house. Three days, she hadn't even been here three days! She turned the corner into the living room, and backed up suddenly.

"MAX!" Kylie's scream shook the windows.

Todd scrambled around the corner, nearly loosing his footing. His stomach rose to rebel as he took in the scene before him. Holding his breath, he fought the urge to vomit. Kylie knelt in the center of the living room, with Max's giant black head in her lap. The dog had been eviscerated, and dismembered. The poor creature's body parts were strewn all about the room. Todd tried to back pedal to get out of the room but found his way blocked by his compatriots.

"Kylie?" Lance's voice broke the silence, but she didn't move. She continued petting the dead dog's head, rocking slowly back and forth on her knees. Wanda tapped Lance's arm lightly, and pointed to the opposite wall.

'_You're Next, Prophet_,' was written in long bloody letters. Lance moved into the room, pushing past Todd.

"Wanda, can you get in touch with Mystique?" He asked over his shoulder, quietly, before leaning down behind Kylie. He placed his hands on her shoulders; she was crying, silently, her tears causing big wet marks on the dog's fur. "Kylie?"

She refused to look up at him, but gave a half-hearted attempt to shrug his hands off. She hiccupped, and sniffled, and petted Max's soft dense fur. Lance pulled on her shoulders gently, and found that she didn't resist. He scooped her up into his arms, and tried to let Max's head fall as gently as he could. Letting her cry into his denim vest, he carried her up to her room.

Wanda returned to the living room; Pietro came behind her with a bag of ice on his head. Todd looked up at the tall senior.

"Who did this, Piet?" he asked, expecting an answer. "Who'd be this mean?"

Pietro shook his head gingerly. "I didn't get to see them, okay? They got me from behind."

In silence, they all surveyed the carnage, and the tattered remains of the dog. Freddy wiped a tear from his eye as he turned again, to slide out of the doorway. Lance reappeared, scowling, but found he had nothing to say either.

"So," Todd glanced up at the others, finally breaking the silence. "Who's gonna like, clean that up, yo?"


	3. Chapter 3

Prophet

"It's a fitting name for her," Wanda murmured as she surveyed the vandalism. She rested her hands on her hips as the boys worked to clean up the mess. Pietro moved like a whirlwind, scrubbing the dried blood letters off the wall. "Toad, make sure she's not planning on leaving." She glanced slightly down at the young mutant she addressed. He was looking even more green than normal. "I think Father would like a telepath on our team."

Todd didn't answer, but hopped towards the stairs. He bristled in anger; the illustrious Magneto thought of Kylie as nothing more than a set of powers. He liked it better when Wanda had hated her father. Todd paused halfway up the stairs as Freddy asked about the great black mutt's remains. Wanda suggested for him to find a box suitable, and that once Kylie felt up to it, they would hold a proper burial for the loyal dog. Bile, hot and sour, rose in Todd's throat, and he walked up the stairs until he could knock on the door to Kylie's room.

There was no answer. He tried again, knocking a little louder this time. "Ky? Can I come in?" he asked through the thin plywood door, before he tested the handle.

Poking his head into the room, he could see why Kylie wouldn't answer. The room was barren, with the exception of a bed, and a dresser. Kylie had nothing when she came to them, and she professed that she wanted nothing more. A duffel bag full of clothes lay half-stuffed on the floor. Kylie lay on the bed, her head buried in her arms.

"Go away," she cried thickly.

Todd approached slowly, and crouched at the edge of the bed. Kylie didn't move, except for the deep shuddering breaths she continued to gulp. He reached up and rested a hand on her shoulder. She moved quickly, flailing blindly with one arm to dislodge his hand. Todd sat in sullen silence, wringing his hands uselessly together in his lap. He reached over to her duffel bag and casually tucked a sleeve into the space.

"You… you leavin'?" he asked hesitantly.

Kylie answered with a whimper.

"I dun' wantcha t'leave," he continued, feeling increasingly lame. "But, y'know, if you have to…"

"It's safest," she whispered finally, after he trailed off into silence. "It was … Max… today, but tomorrow, it could be you, or Freddy…" She pushed herself up on to her elbows, and focused her dark eyes upon him. Red-rimmed and puffy, Todd knew she wouldn't stop crying for a long time to come. "I lost my lead, Todd… I wanted a place to call home so badly. I thought this could be it."

"It… it can be! Still," Todd fidgeted further, running his fingernails beneath each other. He focused on his hands, because he knew he'd break if he looked at her. "Yanno, cause we, like, can fight and stuff…"

She touched him, and he almost leapt out of his skin. She shivered as she drew a long, deep breath. Todd glanced up and shifted his weight forward. She was shaking her head slowly, her long dark curls tumbling all around. "No," she whispered. "My problem, my fight." She sniffed and removed her hand to wipe her nose with the back of it. "And he won't rest until he has me."

"Who 'he'?" Todd asked, pivoting to track her as she rose from the bed and knelt by her duffel.

"Him… he… the guy that killed my parents when I was five." She brushed her hair out of her eyes as she glanced up at him. "He calls himself, Nathaniel Essex."

Kylie was back on the road, finally. Lance had donated a full tank of gas; Freddy had supplied her with lunches enough to keep her for weeks. Pietro and Wanda gave her well wishes; somehow, she had even merited a hug from the platinum haired sibling. Todd had refused to leave his room, which Kylie was still oddly grateful for, even a hundred miles down the road. She missed her dog, her only source of companionship for the better part of five years.

Todd's questions had stirred up too many old memories to handle. And Kylie had learned early, that the only thing you couldn't outrun in life where your memories. Faces, images, haunted her as she sped down the interstate. She was headed for Vermont, hoping to find some backwoods area where she could lay low for a while.

Kylie drove for two days straight, fighting sleep, avoiding cities. By the time she figured she was well into Vermont, she had already started to hallucinate. Once she believed she had seen a burning man streak across the road, screaming for help. Another time she had glanced to her side to see, a six point buck deer riding a motorcycle pass her by. He had a scarf tied over his eyes, and a naked human male tied to the sissy bar. When Kylie saw signs for a small town, she finally decided to call it a night.

She pulled into the smallest motel she had ever seen about a quarter past midnight. For ten minutes, she let the Jeep idle in the parking lot as she shuffled through her bags, searching for a small metal lockbox. Upon inspection, the metal box contained no more than a hundred dollars in cash, and a small pair of diamond stud earrings. Kylie's heart hit the floor. Barely enough for one night in a hotel, so she'd better make this a good night. Fishing out her fake I.D., Kylie slid out of the Jeep and strolled into the reception desk.

She smiled as the clerk passed her the key to Room 4B. The I.D., made by a kid in Sarasota, was still good. Kylie silently thanked him as she parked her Jeep closer to the room, and unloaded quickly. The motel room was small and cheesy, but at least it didn't reek of porn décor. She threw one of her duffel's into the small chair by the equally small table, and tossed the other onto the bed. After triple checking to make sure all the locks were in place, she hung the Do Not Disturb sign in the window, and crawled into bed.

Sleep claimed her almost immediately.

He was amazed he hadn't been spotted yet. All accounts pointed towards her being a highly skilled telepath and a precognitive to boot. He had been beginning to wonder if the damned girl was a robot, driving for two days, only stopping for gas and restroom breaks, had nearly broken him. And he was by no means, a sissy.

His hands were cold, just about frozen stiff. The March night was nippy, and damp. Not at all a good night to be riding a motorcycle through the Vermont highlands. As he flexed his hands, joints popped and cracked. The sounds continued as he rolled his shoulders and neck. He wasn't used to the inactivity. His main job was assassination; he served as a hired hand for Erik Lensherr and his other cronies. This… this protection gig wasn't at all familiar. But he figured the best way to protect the kid, was to be with the kid. He only needed a few hours of sleep; then he could wake her up without being too intimidating.

The man known as Victor Creed stretched languidly, arching his back like a feline until his vertebrae popped and realigned. He yawned and ran his tongue over his fanglike canines. Tomorrow morning would be a good day, he thought as he stretched out on the cold ground beside his motorcycle. Maybe he would get to kill something.

Creed awoke to the typical cheer of the chipper morning birds who knew too little about the reality of life to be affected. The Vermont sky was a shade of blue that Creed had seldom ever seen in his life, the kind of blue that brought a smile to his thin lips. The sun had not yet risen over the mountains, giving the great monoliths of stone an icy gold shine. He shook the dew from his jacket and stretched some warmth back into his cold muscles.

The motorcycle started smoothly. Purring like a giant black and chrome cat, the motorcycle eased quietly out of the brush, and onto the road again. Creed shook his damp hair back from his face, and sped down the road to the tiny motel the kid had shacked up in for the night. Her Jeep was still there. A twisted little grin curled his thin lips up. Parking his bike outside, he fished around in his jacket for his mock-badge.

"Miss?" he asked, as he shouldered his wide frame into the office. The poor girl behind the counter jolted awake; her eyes wide with fear. Creed filled the door frame; nearly seven feet tall, and wide as two people, the clerk had every right to be afraid of him. Infact, he relished in her fear, drinking it down like an elixir. She trembled. He stretched out the badge, flashing it quickly. "I need to know what room the driver of that Jeep Wrangler is staying in."

The clerk fumbled with papers, until she found the register she was looking for. "F-four B," she stuttered. "Angela D-dane."

Creed grinned at the use of a pseudonym, the girl he was hunting had obviously been running for a long time. He grinned, the feral expression letting his canines peek out at the clerk. "Thank you," he purred, his low voice rumbling. He narrowed his eyes, and lowered his chin slightly before he left, giving the girl a seductive wink. The heavy musk of attraction blossomed beneath the addictive scent of fear. Creed's heart began to race.

He forced himself to remember the task at hand. The girl. Kylie. She was his priority. He could always come back to rape and slaughter the poor little clerk later. Bits of him tingled in anticipation. He closed the door resolutely behind him, making sure it clicked in finality. He then strode slowly down the sidewalk, ticking off the room numbers silently. By the time he stood before Room 4B, he was calm again. He raised his fist and knocked sharply, three times.

_Bap-Bap-Bap_.

Kylie had nearly returned to sleep; a few more silent moments and she would have fallen into that deep and dreamless slumber of exhaustion. Irritated, she hauled herself out of the bed, tucking her pistol at the small of her back. Keeping one hand on the butt of the gun, she stood on tiptoes to peer out the peephole.

There was nothing there; nothing but darkness that is. Whoever was there was blocking the lens. Cold terror crept under her skin. There was definitely a mind there; so it wasn't one of _his_ followers. Kylie was afraid to probe further; her tenuous grasp of reality was slowly fading as it was. Her hand trembled as she gripped the door handle. It was cold, clammy and slimy, like grabbing something's tongue.

Hastily, she let go, staring at her dry palm in disbelief.

_Bap-Bap-Bap_.

Whoever was there was getting impatient. Kylie drew the pistol and let it hang at her side, just incase. Testing again, she wrapped her hand around the knob, before easing the door open. It cracked as far as the chain would allow it. Peering out the sliver of door, Kylie looked out, and up. And up.

Blue eyes. Blond mane. He flashed a toothy grin. Kylie's breath stopped short in her throat, and she let out a small, strangled cry. The pistol clattered to the floor, freed of numb fingers. Kylie collapsed into blessed darkness.

Creed tilted his head curiously. That was a first. She hadn't fainted of fear; he could smell no fear on her. No, she had just passed out it seems. Damn lucky the gun didn't go off, he figured, as he hooked a long talon through the crack in the door. With a flick, he busted the chain, and eased the door the rest of the way open. Stepping inside, he heeled the door closed behind him, examining the prone girl.

"Well, I'm here t'keep you safe," he muttered as he knelt down beside her. His fingers threaded through her hair, making sure she hadn't cracked her head open when she fell. "So, safety lesson number one, get some sleep, frail."

He tucked his arm under her knees, and picked her up. Light as a feather, and just as slight, the nickname certainly fit her. Her cheeks glittered as he laid her down in the disheveled bed. She was crying? She whimpered in her unconsciousness, and she reached out… for him.

"Woah, kiddo, I'm a killer, not a friggin teddy bear," Creed groused as her hand curled around one of his fingers. "Dammit." He growled to himself, but stared as her tense features curiously relaxed. He muttered a few curses to his various employers, before hooking his foot around the chair, and dragging it closer. Might as well get comfortable, he figured, it would probably be a long night.

As he settled in, he sighed softly. She was kind of cute, like a china doll, but he couldn't get over the nagging suspicion that he'd seen her somewhere before. She squeezed his finger, and drew her knees up further, curling fetal under the blankets. Her hands shook, and her muscles twitched. Now Creed could smell fear, but she wasn't afraid of him. Hesitantly, he reached out with his free hand, and brushed his knuckles against her cheek. _Mags wasn't kiddin', _he thought. _Kids' got more issues than a friggin' comic strip._

Even more amazed, he saw her relax beneath his touch. Experimenting again, he smoothed his fingers through her hair. The girl sighed, a long deep slow sound that forced him to watch her lips quiver, and rose a knot of agony deep in his gut. Creed swallowed hard, and closed his eyes, drawing back his free hand. His fingers, still trapped in her small hand, tingled, not unpleasantly. Creed sighed. Without knowing how long she was going to be out, he figured to take a small catnap.

Someone was watching him. Creed feigned sleep professionally, his chest rising and falling evenly. His hand was free; she was moving around quietly in the room. Or perhaps she was just moving on the bed. His gut tightened painfully again, but perhaps it was only in response to the x-rated thoughts that flitted through his mind. Determined then, he would definitely come back to this backwoods town, to murder and rape the mousy clerk.

On his next breath, Creed could scent... charcoal? Paper? What was she planning on doing? Escape by paper airplane? He couldn't resist, and cracked one azure eye. He watched her, kneeling on the bed, with a large pad of paper balanced before her. Her eyes were ringed with darkness, and trained so intensely on Creed's body he suddenly felt self-conscious. He waited a few more moments, until she glanced back at the page she worked upon, to open his eyes fully. As soon as she looked up, her gaze met his and every muscle in her body froze.

"See somethin' ya like?" he asked gruffly, pushing himself up straight in the chair, and stretching.

She moved like lightning then, snapping the cover of the sketchpad closed, and bolting off the bed. She pointed then, her wide, doe-like eyes staring. "You... you're... r-r-real!"

"Last time I checked I was," Creed rose to his full height, towering almost a full two feet over the young girl. "Erik Lensherr sent me to protect ya. He wants ya t'go back to the boardin' house." As if the house were just around the corner, he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "You 'n me, frail, we can make it back t'night."

_Frail_. The word seemed to have a profound effect on the girl. Fear cast a heady undercurrent to her delicate scent; her breath rasped quickly in her throat. "You..." she whispered. "I don't even know your name."

"Victor Creed." He extended his hand, a huge appendage ending in savage claws. "I know who you are... Kylie. Live outta your Jeep. Precog. Artist." He wanted to get this over with. Introductions were always the hardest to deal with, awkward and slow. She didn't accept his hand; she only continued to stare at him.

"I can't go back," she stated, softly, plainly. "He always finds me. I can't fight him."

"Him? Who him?" Creed plopped down on the motel bed, the springs crying out in protest. Casually, he reached for her sketchpad, easily slipping it from her numb fingers. "You can fight anything... I'll kill it for you." A toothy grin spread across his craggy face. "Nice drawings," he observed, paging through the sketchbook.

"Hey!" Kylie seemed to snap out of her stupor. She lunged for the sketchpad, but Creed twisted, avoiding her grasp. He turned another page, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. She blushed, brilliant red apples rising on her cheeks. "Give that back!"

"Hoo boy!" Creed turned the page, so he could get the full view. "Hey, that's me!" He squinted slightly, peering at the face attached to the Adonis body. "And that too!" He flipped a few more pages, only to find more renditions of his face and form. Slyly, he looked over to the girl that was blushing a few feet away.

Sullenly, she held her hand out for her sketchbook. "You've been in my visions for three months now," she informed him. "Can I please have my book back?"

"On one condition," Creed responded, closing the cover and glancing up. "Let me come with you, while you think about coming back to the boarding house." He held out the sketchbook. When her hand closed on it, she sighed deeply and nodded.

"Alright, you win," she frowned, pulling the sketchbook towards herself and hugging it. "But understand, Mr. Creed, I don't want anyone to get hurt."

Creed only grinned. "Call me Victor, frail. That Mister bull is for old fogies and pompous asses."

Kylie nodded. Silence settled around them, uncomfortable and thick. Kylie looked slowly towards the door, her brow furrowing. Creed followed her glance in time to see a shadow move across the curtained window. He moved faster than Kylie did, and silently as well. Rising from his chair and crouching before her, he planned to make good on his promise.

Her hand touched his shoulder. "They're here," she whispered, her voice barely audible even to his superior senses. She slipped the pistol off the bed stand, and flicked the safety with her thumb. Creed sniffed the air, but only could pick up must, and week old hamburger.

"Attackin' in broad daylight?" Creed muttered, watching another shadow move across the door. "Kinda gutsy, aren't they?"

He felt Kylie's answering nod, even though she was hiding behind him. Creed snarled softly and flexed his fingers, glaring at the door. No. He wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of surprising them. Instead, he sprung into action, leaping into the door with his fists balled tight.

The door cracked and quickly snapped beneath his weight, crashing atop of one of the automatons. _They_ were the ones that smelled of week-old meat! As Creed straightened, five more humanoids turned to face him. A slow come-hither grin spread across Creed's lips. Yes, today was a good day; he would get to slaughter something. The automatons were all dressed as police officers, and they all wore identical faces. The creatures moved as one being toward him, smoothly and easily.

As he tensed to spring and attack, the sharp crack and echo of a pistol reverberated twice. Two of the automatons staggered, pitching backward as each bore a bloodless, gaping hole between their eyes. Creed whistled softly, impressed by the pressure performance of the little mouse emerging from her hole. Behind him, she moved out of the doorway, her bag slung secure over one shoulder.

The fake police all turned toward her. The there remaining gave a grunt of dissatisfaction as Kylie ran for her Jeep. She threw her duffel inside and spun in time to squeeze off another shot. The bullet went wide and tore a chunk of plaster out of the wall.

Creed had meanwhile grabbed two from behind. His huge hands wrapped nearly all the way around their skulls. He began to squeeze until he felt the first hints of breaking bone beneath his fingers. He then slammed both skulls together, and dropped the lifeless bodies to the ground. That left the one advancing on Kylie, but Creed paused. The girl was full of surprises. Like the unflinching accuracy that she unloaded a full clip into the face of her assailant. The thing crumpled, it's hooked fingertips just barely catching the front of her shirt.

"They're dead," Creed muttered kicking one of them slightly. "They've been dead for… weeks." He looked up to watch Kylie round the front of her Jeep, and climb into the drivers seat. She turned to him before she touched the ignition.

"You coming? Cause there'll be another bunch of them here in a few minutes."

Creed stepped over a carcass and unlatched the passenger door. With a forlorn glance at his motorcycle, Creed conceded and sat down in the Jeep. It smelled vaguely of dog. Glancing in the back seat, Creed saw short black fur scattered all over the seat. He wondered what had happened to it.

"So," Creed began as Kylie guided the Jeep out of the parking lot. "Where are you plannin' on runnin' to?"

The girl shrugged. "North. Canada maybe, if I can get across the border. Maybe I'll head to Michigan. I'm not sure."

_She sounds like she hates this running_, Creed thought. He stretched out as she hit the highway, resting one hand on the headrest of her seat. "Well, frail, wherever you go, I'll be with you. Least till you can figure out what you want to do."


	4. Chapter 4

Instinct: Fight or Flight

Creed watched the girl as she practically shoveled meatloaf, potatoes and corn into her mouth. She ate like she believed she would never see another meal. He chuckled, and glanced back toward the buffet counter. The little truck stop had good food, he had to admit, but the stares that bounced off of him from every corner of the diner made him moderately uncomfortable. Calmly, he reached for his beer, and he took a long slow pull off the top.

"Y'know, frail," he muttered, letting the glass rest naturally in his hand. "You don't have to eat so fast."

Kylie glanced up at him, something baleful and placating in her dark eyes. She obviously couldn't spare breath for words, as she reached for the ketchup again. Creed found it… cute… that she buried the meatloaf with the red stuff. After a another few mouthfuls, she glanced back toward the buffet, and sighed.

"As long as I'm with you, you can take your time." He began to turn the glass in his hands, watching the movement behind him in the reflection. "Enjoy your food. It's on me."

Those dark eyes fixed on him again, and she swallowed her current mouthful. "You don't have to do this, you know," she whispered, her eyes flickering to one side, watching the path of another patron. "I'm fine on my own; I just have to stay ahead of them."

"I don't think you could stay ahead of a tortoise right now, kid," Creed pointed out. "Why don't you let me drive this time? You catch a few catnaps, and I'll get us to someplace that you can hole up in for a day or so. How's that sound?"

Validating his worry, Kylie stifled a yawn. Creed couldn't help but chuckle, with a belly full of protein and carbs, this girl would be hard pressed to stay awake for very long. She glared at him; oh! She had a cold stare that could freeze steel. As she stared, Creed drained the rest of his beer, but no buzz would be touching his system tonight. Some days he just couldn't drink fast enough to outrun his healing factor.

Kylie shifted slightly in her seat, and dug around in her pocket for a few seconds. She held the keys in her closed fist, and reached across the table toward him. Her hand trembled slightly as Creed held his out beneath it; she eyed those talons that had shredded flesh so easily just hours earlier. She hesitated.

"Why are you doing this?" she finally asked, daring to look him straight in the eyes. "Because someone ordered you to? Because someone paid you?"

Creed shrugged. "I could have just followed you. Kept tabs on you, and rushed in like some friggin' knight when the shit went down." Creed shook his head. "Not my style at all. But yeah, I was told to keep an eye on you. This is business, frail, simple, easy business."

Kylie's eyes flicked away, dropping down to study the tabletop. Wordlessly, she dropped the keys into his open palm, and withdrew her hand. After a few moments of silence, she pushed her plate away, refusing to look up. Creed's chest suddenly felt… tight.

What the hell? Was he really regretting just crushing this kids prayers? Oh, yeah, now he definitely felt like heel. _The kid has a sketchbook filled with you, dumbass._ Creed's quietest inner voice whispered. As he pushed himself up out of the table, he rubbed one hand along his forehead. Without a word, Kylie followed him out of the diner, and back to her Jeep.

Creed settled in and fiddled with the controls until the Jeep accepted his long frame. Kylie watched him without comment, but she flinched slightly as he revved the engine. Yeah, Creed figured this vehicle was, in every effect, Kylie's baby.

"Look, kick back and enjoy the ride," Creed reached out to rest his hand against the back of her headrest. "I'll be nice to your ride, I promise."

She eyed the arm stretched toward her, and shifted away after a second. Creed scented distrust, and… sadness. She cast him a baleful sidelong glance. "I'm gonna hold you to that," she muttered, crossing her arms.

Creed returned the sidelong glance. He'd known enough women in his life to leave them alone when they crossed their arms like that. But he knew he would never be able to figure out just why they got that way. With a sigh, Creed settled into driving, and a steady, not quite comfortable silence fell within the Jeep.

* * *

The Jeep was good on gas; Creed figured they were well into the quieter forests of Quebec by the time he was beginning to get concerned about fuel. Kylie had fallen asleep no more than an hour after they left the diner, and they had passed over the Canadian border without so much as a hiccup from her. She was still curled against the door, shivering in the cooling night.

Rolling his shoulders, Creed figured it was a good time to stop for a good stretch. Figuring by the stars, they were still a few hours off from his destination, and a few hours off from dawn. Hitting the flophouse by the time the sun hit the treetops seemed to be a reasonable estimate. Popping his door open, he slide from the seat and arched his back, reaching those strong, taloned hands of his skyward.

That poor kid looked so cold. But installing the soft top would definitely wake her up. No, he couldn't do that to her. She already thought him a cold-hearted asshole. Why would he want to reinforce that?

Waitaminute. Why did it matter what the frail thought? Creed glanced over at her, and paced around the Jeep a few times. Finally pausing by the passenger door, he reached in to slide a curl from her face. Slowly, he shucked his jacket. _She's a telepath, _he reminded himself sourly. _She can probably make me get all confused, and friggin sympathetic like this._

His jacket felt awkward and heavy as he fed it between the windshield and the roll bars. _Face it, dumbass,_ whispered that quietest of voices. _You like being relied on. You like being trusted._ Creed tried to shake the voice off, all the while smoothing his long trench coat over Kylie's curled body. As he tucked the collar under her chin, she sighed softly, and settled in further. His gut tightened. _See._

Creed scowled. He really should have let her be at the motel. He'd have been a while lot more comfortable watching her struggles from a distance. Frustrated, he scrubbed a hand through his mane, and left the passenger door. What did he have to look forward to after all this, anyway?

Lensherr wanted Kylie to join the Acolytes. She'd be exposed to the gentle giant of a Russian, and to that damned snakeskin-smooth charmer, Remy. She'd never want to be near Creed again, that was for sure. Perturbed, Creed climbed back into the drivers seat, and pulled back out onto the road.

He wasn't too much farther down the pot-holed route when the headlights appeared in his rear view. The brilliant lights blinded him for a moment, and Creed gave an irritated snarl. Flicking the mirror to the second surface, Creed glanced over his shoulder. It was a tractor trailer, a massive diesel rumbling up fast on his bumper. Creed realized a few seconds too slow that the semi had pulled into the other lane and was attempting to pass.

As the semi pulled alongside, Creed tapped the brakes, slowing to let the behemoth pass. But the semi slowed as well, and began to ease back into its proper lane… on top of the Jeep!

"Oh, shit!" Frantic for a way out, Creed slammed the brakes hard, flinging his arm out to catch Kylie. The semi swerved an instant later, and Creed watched the trailer begin to jack knife towards them. "Hang on, frail!" he hollered as he jerked hard on the wheel.

Kylie didn't even manage a scream as she woke up. Sparks flew as the front bumper ground against the guardrail, but the rail gave in first. With the shredding of aluminum, the Jeep sprung free, bouncing hard as it pitched down a steep hill. Creed released the girl to fight with keeping the Jeep upright. As they careened down the hillside, a rain of gunfire peppered the grass and bushes all around. Wisely, Kylie ducked down.

Creed hit the tree line with a sharp snarl. The Jeep pitched around as he tried to guide it through the old growth forest, desperately yanking on the wheel to avoid trees. He kept the throttle pinned, outrunning the echo of gunfire, until the Jeep sputtered, and coughed, and ran out of gas deep in the Quebec forest.

Flipping his tawny mane back from his face, Creed managed a chuckle, patting the steering wheel softly. "Well, I tried to treat it nice." Kylie didn't answer him. "Frail? Kiddo?" Creed pivoted in his seat. "Kylie?"

The girl was slumped down, clutching his jacket tightly. He touched her shoulder lightly, but curled his lip as the scent of fresh blood tickled the back of his throat. The windshield had spiderwebbed, and Kylie sported a wide laceration over her eyebrow.

"Well," he muttered softly. "I guess I get to carry you." Creed rubbed his face as he banished all his mental images. He shook his head, reminding himself that he was here to protect the girl… not kill her.

* * *

Kylie's head throbbed. It wasn't just that dull ache, she'd grown used to over the years. No, this was an actual physical pain. She lifted her hand, shielding her eyes from the mornings light. Carefully, she sat up, and rubbed at the bandage that wound around her head. Bewildered, she surveyed her surroundings.

The room was tiny. Log walls, and a post-and-beam ceiling made the rustic charm of the tiny cabin feel almost cozy. The bed was long, but small, barely big enough for her to stretch out on. A wood stove stood dormant in one corner, and she suddenly doubted the place had running water.

Kylie smiled after a second. Her duffel bags were seated on the foot of the bed. Carefully she reached forward, conscious of the squealing springs. A sound from the floor beside the bed froze her in place. Carefully, she leaned over to see.

Flopped out on his back was the man she probably owed her life to now. Victor Creed. Kylie's heart skipped a beat. His jacket was wadded up as a pillow, and he had one arm thrown over his face. What she had originally thought as sleeves were apparently some manner of buckled-on armor, for both arm guards and the matching chest-piece lay strewn haphazardly across the floor.

He was bare-chested, and snoring. Kylie's fingertips tingled at the image. She reached again for the duffel, and extracted her sketchbook and charcoals. Willing him not to move, she set herself up, the bottom of the pad resting against her knees, her right hand supporting the top. A new sweeping line was born with each rise or fall of his barrel chest. Kylie fought to capture all the leonine grace with which he sprawled, and the rogueish carelessness that he'd left in his wake.

But a flash…

_Blue. Red. Brown. Laughter._

Kylie shook her head sharply. This wasn't a good time, yet she found herself turning the page.

_Role reversal. The woman sleeps on the floor. The man, awake, stares at her in mute awe._ Angular jaw. Swept-back black hair. It found its way onto the paper, regardless of Kylie's wishes. Another flash.

_Children. Singing. Christmas carols. The straight jacket confines. The girl with the easy smile. _Curled fingers, stiff joints. A wheelchair. Coal dark hair. _A sing-song rhyme_.

She wanted the flashes to stop, but her hand continued to draw. _A large building, beautiful gothic structure with an iron gate and high stone walls. Windows where adults and children alike stare at the landscape._ A physical jerk_. The bedroom again. The sleeping woman leaps to awareness, eyes wild. Golden eyes. Lupine eyes. Coal dark hair._

"Lexie?" Kylie's voice shattered the moment. She shuddered and glanced down at the her sketchpad. Jumbled images swam before her, setting her brain afire. Three faces. A man. A woman. A girl-child. The two females… youth and adult. "Lex. Oh, my God…" Her hand tightened atop the sketchpad, squeezing to imprint the rings into her palm. "no… No…" the word began to fall from her lips as a mantra. Repeated over and over. She hiccupped.

"Frail?" the deep voice cracked trying to be so quiet. Creed pushed himself up, reaching out for Kylie's leg. As he carefully settled his hand down, Kylie drew a single deep breath and squeezed her eyes closed. Tears filled the room with their warm, saline scent. Creed pulled himself up to his knees, unable to find words for the girl.

Her eyes followed him, dark and moist. She dropped her sketchbook, and leaned forward. Kylie's arms wrapped around his neck, and in moments she was hanging on Creed, sobbing hysterically. Dumb-struck, Creed wrapped her up in his arms, and rested his cheek against her hair. What else could he do? The only way he knew how to stop a woman crying was by ending their life, and he wasn't about to do that to this one. Bewildered, he chanced a look at the open page of her sketchpad…

* * *

"So you think something's gonna happen here?" Creed clarified again. "And when it does, you want me to take this letter to Xavier's x-punks?"

Kylie nodded, folding the letter slowly. "You said that's where that Logan fellow works. Lexie's going to be with him."

She sounded oddly calm, and collected for a girl who had been hysterical less than an hour before. "And Lexie is?" Creed prompted, holding out his hand as Kylie's balloon-like handwriting finished off the envelope. Kylie didn't seal the package before he held it out.

"An old childhood friend of mine," she answered softly, watching Creed tuck the letter into his jacket pocket. "So, what happened last night? I remember the big truck… but beyond that?"

The big man turned to look out the window, shrugging as he placed his broad back towards her. "The Jeep's outside, beneath those bushes. And we're here, about a hundred miles from anything important." He glanced over his shoulder as she began to move, and watched her replace her sketchbook in the duffel. "Let's go put those back in the Jeep, just in case." He leaned back and snagged one of the bags, heading for the door after. At the threshold he paused, to wait for the girl to catch up.

There Kylie paused, and stared about. The tall cedars and oaks cast a thick, oppressive shade over the sparse undergrowth. As Creed strode out from the tiny porch, Kylie noticed survival gear, and hunting implements scattered around what could barely qualify as a yard. A deer spreader clanged in the wind, striking against the truck of the tree it was suspended by. Creed paused before he began to pull branches from the Jeep, and he took a good sniff of his surroundings.

"Frail…" he muttered, motioning her over with a jerk of his head. "Get on over here." To her credit, the girl sprinted across the moss and leaves, and she pulled branches from the Jeep as she circumnavigated it. The glint of fear in her eyes was real; she knew they were coming. Just as Creed could smell their rot on the breeze.

"They've got us surrounded," Kylie whispered, leaning into the Jeep for a moment. Bullets clicked softly as she filled her clip from a box beneath the seat. Creed's mouth curled into a grin. She was ready to fight. He started to settle down, motioning her closer. She stood behind him, gun at the ready, as a steady breeze whipped their hair about.

Creed registered the snap of a tree limb a second after Kylie reacted. She spun left, raising her pistol defensively. A dark shape, moving through the trees, was quickly joined by more. Creed snarled, canines gnashing at the advancing army. He wasn't going to wait, and he lunged, expecting nothing less than what he received. The army reacted with a strange singularity of purpose. The first four lines were armed with bludgeoning tools, and sharp knives, with which Creed soon found himself being slashed and bashed with.

Counting the echoing gunshots, the vicious mutant realized that Kylie had emptied her clip too quickly. Damn it! He had to get back to her. Throwing off two automatons, he gutted a third as he spun, gathering himself for a leap.

Kylie had thrown the gun to the ground, and snatched up the jack from Jeep. Wildly she swung it, caving in chests and skulls when she struck. Creed leapt, clearing the distance between them easily. His claws dove into the skull of one creature, which he then used as a blocking dummy, knocking down four more.

"Where are they all coming from?" Kylie shouted over the wailing wind. As if answering her question, a sleek black helicopter buzzed the treetops, coming to rest at a hover over the tiny cabin.

"Get out of here, kid," Creed snarled, as he shoved her toward the Jeep. "I'll buy you some time, and meet up with you in Ottowa."

"No!"

"If you don't go, I swear I'll kill you myself!" Creed snapped, flashing his claws in her face. Kylie's sudden burst of motion was refreshing. She leapt into the Jeep and the engine roared to life without hesitation.

"Promise me!" she shouted, her eyes on the chopper. It's side panel slowly slid open; the glint of a gun barrel emerging slowly. "Promise!"

Damn kid, why did she have to stall like that? He shook a scrawny figure from his back, and pivoted toward her. "I promise! Now GO!" He hoped that the empty words would put her ass in gear. The chopper's guns were winding up; he had to get her out of the blast pattern. The Jeep's wheels spun, showering everything with dirt and leaves; fearlessly, she plowed down the mindless army, and made haste to escape.

Throwing his head back, Sabretooth roared to the sky, and pounced. He grabbed the roof of the cabin, and scrambled up. Another good spring, and he would be able to grab the runners on the chopper. He wouldn't get the chance.

Mid-leap, the machine gun began. The first dozen bullets took his shoulder out of socket, shattering bones and spinning him around. The rest pelted into his back, rupturing organs, and bouncing around within his body. Creed hit the roof hard, but the pain of impact was lost in the sheer agony of breathing. As he rolled off the sloped roof, into the bushes, he stared down the path of motionless bodies that Kylie had carved with the Jeep.

He found the strength to draw a breath, and forced his eyes to stay open. The explosion blinded him, fire blooming in the shadowed forest. Creed couldn't get a sound out, but it seemed the pain of his body vanished, only to be replaced by the phantom pain of loss.

_Kylie…_


	5. Chapter 5

Note: I apologize for the shortness of this chapter... it's more of a set up for the final gasps, than anything else. Once again, if you haven't read "Feral Bindings" yet, please do. The events between the two stories are tied together

Obsessive

Creed nodded slowly, holding the payphone close to his ear. "Yeah," he muttered into the receiver. "I understand." Two days, it had taken him two full days to recover from the wounds inflicted at the cabin. It wouldn't have taken so long if he hadn't been so hell bent on making it back to Bayville as soon as he'd woken up. He'd failed protecting the kid. The slag and wreckage of her Jeep was still burned into his mind.

Thunder rolled sourly overhead, and rain streamed down the sides of the phone booth. Creed pulled his jacket tighter around him. The rain was cold as it slid down his neck. The scrawny booth offered him little protection from the fury of the storm; sullenly, he lowered his head as Magneto continued to berate him over the phone.

"_You will find her._" Magneto growled. Creed knew that there was no real signal coming over the phone line. Speakers were nothing more than magnets and wires, and magnetism caused electricity, and vise versa. "_Meet me at the Brotherhood house. You and they shall bring back my newest Acolyte, Sabretooth._"

Creed grunted into the phone, and returned the cradle to the receiver. He growled softly as he stepped away from the booth. For a beat, he stood with his back to the dark shape, feeling the rain beat down against his skin. Finally, with a roar, something within him snapped. He spun, catching the corner of the phone booth with his heel. The force of impact toppled the stand; glass shattered with a most satisfying crash as it hit the pavement. Creed shook himself slightly, tossing the blond hair from his face as he straightened.

He definitely felt better. Rolling his shoulders, he felt some of the tension ease out. But that still didn't make everything better. He glanced to his side, expecting to see Kylie laughing at him. The grim satisfaction of destruction slipped away slowly, and he was left sullen and hollow once more.

Part of him wanted to glare up at the rain. He'd left his bike in Vermont; all that was left for transportation was his own two feet until he could get back to one of his safe houses. The idea was tempting. He probably had a car at the Bayville flop. No. Turning his collar up against the rain, Creed focused on his present situation.

The X-punks were probably already in Montana looking for their answers. They had no clue Kylie would be somewhere on the grounds of that hospital. His own letter was tucked away safely in his pocket, hopefully protected from the sheeting rain. She'd written _him_ a letter. She had known what was going to happen that night. She'd willingly run, hoping she could save him.

As he walked, he crossed his arms over his chest, and hunched slightly against the driving rain. For once the storm felt entirely natural. The brilliance of lightning illuminated Creed's craggy face, and stung his sharp eyes. But it was the violence of the thunder that echoed deep within him. Rain ran steadily down his neck and contoured the shape of his face. Pietro's pet punks would just have to do in the place of more competent mutants.

* * *

"Yo, the roof's leakin' again!" Todd bounced down the hall, shaking the raindrops from his head. "Y'know Lance, if ya'd stop crackin' up the place…"

Lance reached out, grabbed Tolensky by the face, and shoved him away. He was too busy pawing through the empty cupboards, looking for anything that might be considered edible. Freddy had once again eaten through food that would have lasted any group of five other people an entire week. And he'd done it in less than two days!

"Pietro!" Lance shouted, the house rumbling quietly in response to his irritation. "Can't your father at least help us get some food?"

The speed demon zipped into the room, a white blur for a few seconds. Casually appearing as if he was leaning on the wall, he shook his head. "Nope. Said we gotta fend for ourselves."

Todd waited a few tense seconds as the two traded glares. Then, meekly he hopped up behind Lance. "Say, Pietro, can you, like, zip up to the roof and fix that leak, all, like, zippity-zap?"

There came an arched brow. "Zippity-zap?" Pietro echoed incredulously. "Uhm. No. Why don't you get up there and fix it?"

Todd paled, and cowered behind Lance's legs. A flash of lightning dilated Todd's pupils, while the nearly simultaneous crack of thunder rattled the windows. "No way, man. Toad's 'splode when they get hit by lightnin', yo!"

Lance and Pietro both glanced at one another for a brief moment, before they both burst into laughter. That laughter rapidly died as the lights flickered, and plunged the Brotherhood house into complete darkness. Pietro promptly tripped over Toad, who cursed as he caught the silver-haired boy's knee quiet adeptly with his stomach. Freddy was yelling at the television, while upstairs, Wanda's door slammed open. A flash of lightning illuminated everything just long enough to let Todd untangle himself from the sprawl of legs that was Pietro, and hop to the door. The darkness returned, forcing him to peer in the direction he _thought_ Wanda had been.

"Cuddlebumps? Are yo-" Todd never got the chance to finish, as a blue glow bathed him. Suspended in midair for a moment, dawning horror painted a comical expression in the lightning flashing outside. Then suddenly, he hit the wall with a sharp, distinct _splat_!

The lights flickered, trying vainly to return. Lance thought he heard another crash of thunder, but a quick glance out into the hall revealed the front door banging freely. As the seismic shaker moved to close it, another forked flash illuminated the figure standing within the open orifice. Soaked to the bone, but no less intimidating, was none other than Sabretooth.

Creed's boots echoed as he stomped inside. Lance stumbled backward as Sabretooth took a moment to shake himself, showering the hallway with a hail of water. As he straightened, Creed shoved his hair from his face.

"Where's Magnus?" he growled softly. Stalking toward Lance, Creed sniffed, deep thought flickering in his yellowed-eyes. "Not here yet. Good."

Sticking his head out of the kitchen doorway, Pietro gasped. "Look, we haven't done anything wrong. We've only done what Father's told us to do."

Creed snarled softly as he stalked deeper into the house. A flash of lightning showed that Lance had gained his feet, while Wanda waited halfway down the stairs, ready to strike. "That's not why I'm here." The kids continued to come out of the woodwork, appearing a little more with every lightning strike. Once he figured they were all paying attention to him, he sighed softly. "Kylie's in trouble."  
"What?" Todd yelped, only partially because Freddy trod upon his foot.

"But why come to us?" Lance wondered aloud. "Why not go to the other Acolytes?"

A secondary shape loomed behind Creed as the staccato lightning flashed. "Because," the calm, even tenor answered in Creed's stead. "You five have forged a bond of friendship with the Prophet." Magneto was always a sobering sight; the ultimate pinnacle of mutant evolution floated serenely into the house. Everyone took a conscious step back, making way for the master of magnetism. "She needs to be returned to us. Sabretooth knows where she was taken, but not by whom." Magneto cast his eyes over the feral mutant, watching the man's subtle reaction. Creed refused to challenge his gaze.

Todd shifted uncomfortably. Something caused Magneto to turn his stare over to the amphibian. For a moment, it looked as though the Toad would speak up, but he cowed away at the last second, dropping his yellow eyes.

"Toad?" Magneto suddenly queried. "Do have something to share?"

Glancing around at his fellows, Todd cleared his throat nervously. They all stared back at him, and suddenly, he was sure they'd throw him to the lions if he didn't spill… "Well, Ky…" he began weakly, rubbing his neck. "She told me about this guy… Essex. He needed her for something, like… a science experiment. Sh-she never said exactly what."

Creed scowled. That was still too little information to base any sort of extraction on. He grunted and swung for the door finally. "The sooner we go, the sooner she's safe." As Creed vanished into the rain, the kids looked bewildered at one another.

"Why's he so concerned?" Todd asked derisively as he took half a hop toward the door.

Magneto only smiled, as they all boarded onto his spherical transport modules. Such a limited effort on his part had the orbs skyborn. Even from the ground he could hear the amazed reactions of the Brotherhood boys.

* * *

For Victor Creed, Magneto's favorite form of transport was both a blessing, and a curse. It was a blessing for he could use the time to sort himself out, to check how well his injuries had healed, and to reflect on just how upside-down everything had gotten. Yet, in all of the easy silence, he was left alone with his own worst enemy… his mind.

He wanted to do nothing more than picture Kylie's face, and focus on finding her. Yet his mind would not let him rest on one single image. Disjointed images flickered through his head, flashes of his relatively short time with the girl. Had it really only been four days? He didn't, or couldn't, count the two days he'd followed her through New York. No, those had been… empty days. Empty of what?

He didn't dwell on the unknowable, as he pondered just what he would do to those that dared remove her from his life. Ha! She hadn't even agreed to being in his life. Did he really want her there? He had too many enemies, many of them, hidden from even his own memories. His mind tried to follow a hundred different tangents at once.

Creed's temples began to throb; his heart, to race. No, focus! He had to focus. Kylie was his concern; the girl who obsessively sketched him… the girl who seemed so vulnerable that a strong breeze could break her in two, yet was strong enough to have lived solely on the run for more time than she cared to admit. He'd find her.

He's find her even if he had to tear this Essex's spine from his body. Creed's fists began to clench, only to knead his claws into the softer flesh of his palm. The pain was reality, keeping his senses focused, while, in the dark, screaming corners of his mind, he tore apart a faceless horror, again… and again… and again…


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: I'm so sorry it's taken me this long to update this fic. Life got in the way, my brain wandered, and I had lost all my notes, which had to be reconstructed from scratch. But anyway, here it is. Part One of the Two-part Finale, included in its entirety upon both sides of my X-Men/Brotherhood coin. I hope you enjoy.

* * *

Sinister Secrets

"LAND!" Todd Tolensky leapt from his orb to hug the nearest tree. "Oh, God, if I never travel like that again, yo, it'll be too soon!" Pressing his face against the rough bark, he kept glancing behind him, to make sure that the rest of the Brotherhood were still there. The woods were eerie, dark and scary. He detached himself from the tree as soon as he felt his legs would support him.

The rest of the Brotherhood seemed pretty steady on their feet. Creed hadn't even paused when he exited. He was already scenting the air, allowing, only for brief seconds, his eyes to close. Todd hopped over to the others, feeling better once he was hidden behind Freddy's bulk. The silence seemed thicker than cottage cheese, until Todd leaned slightly over to Wanda.

"Think I can ride wit'chu home?" he asked as innocently as he could muster.

She simply leveled her dark eyes in his direction, and he flinched, expecting the worse. With a casual flick of her hand, Wanda caused a thick tree branch to break off from its trunk, and crash violently to the ground within feet of Todd's flamingo-like stance. He swallowed, as he cracked one eye slowly open. He didn't even get a chance to 'cuddlebumps' her, before Creed growled low and soft in his throat.

Everyone stopped, and turned slightly, to watch him. Creed moved forward a few more steps, flaring his nostrils as he scented the air again. "Quicksilver." The blur of silver stopped abruptly beside the outstretched hand. "The X-punks are here. Find them. I want to know what they're doing."

As Quicksilver disappeared in a whorl of leaves, Creed began to move off into the woods, carefully choosing a path through the trees. The Brotherhood kids all glanced at one another, before Lance motioned them onward. They really didn't have a choice, after all. After a few moments of following wordlessly, Todd cleared his throat.

"Uh, so, Mister Sabretooth?" At the question in the boy's voice, Creed paused, grunting as he peered back over his shoulder at the scrawny kid. "So like, how do we find Kylie? We don't even know where to look."

"She'll find us," Sabretooth grunted. At least, that's what he hoped. He kept calling her name silently, hoping that maybe a stray bit of telepathy would connect them. Guilt fueled his limbs. He had promised to keep her alive. He had promised to keep her safe. And he had let her down. Creed had hardly traversed six paces, when Quicksilver was back, leaning on a tree. He jabbed a finger over his shoulder, indicating shallower out of the woods.

"The Jet's that way, with a car, and a whole lotta commotion."

Creed merely nodded, and turned in the indicated direction. The action brought around a chorus of dismay from the kids tagging behind him, but with his usual stoic stubbornness, the man known as Sabretooth just kept walking.

--------------- ---------------- ---------------- ----------------- ----------------- ----------------

"What do you mean she was _right there_, Hank? Where is she now?" A vein pulsed at Logan's temple as he fought to control the urge to rip Beast's blue-furred throat out. Logan's hand pointed accusingly at the empty chair to his left, where moments before, his feral rescue had been curled up.

Admirably, Hank didn't cower under the brunt of Logan's barely restrained fury. He was slight nervous however, one couldn't help it when one thought of the sensation of those slick adamantium blades cutting across jugulars. Hank shook the imagery off, and gestured to the screens. "I turned away for only a minute, to respond to the Professor and Jean. When I looked back, I presumed she had gone searching for you."

Logan started guiltily at that. He had after all been the one to venture out first, taking a perimeter sweep. But then, he had never been out of sight of the Blackbird, so where had she gone? Turning away from Hank with a half-hearted snarl, Logan sniffed around the cargo ramp for a few moments. Carnal had gone down the ramp, he discovered, her musky scent still fresh on the metal. But within a few feet of the ramps base, the scent simply, and completely vanished. Logan backtracked suddenly, nearly tripping over Hank. A breeze rustled the leaves around them, as Scott carefully parked the sedan beneath the Blackbird's starboard wing.

Logan was at the professor's door even before Jean could get the wheelchair out of the trunk. "She's gone. The scent just vanishes. Teleporter, most likely. Chuck, we gotta move."

Xavier held his hand up. "We must wait for Ororo."

"No!" Logan cut off any other words that Xavier may have had to calm the raging mutant. But even as he took a step backwards, to allow Xavier to move into his wheelchair, Logan became aware of something else entirely. Of six shapes moving out of the forest, toward the jet and sedan. Logan spun, unsheathing his claws, and expecting the worse.

What he got, was far more unpleasant than what he wanted.

"Sabretooth," the snarl was unleashed through clenched teeth. Wolverine set himself to attack, but drew up short as the other figures resolved themselves. The Brotherhood kids, all moving with their hands in plain view, dogging Sabretooth's steps with quiet confusion.

"I'm not here to fight _you_, pipsqueak," Creed began without preamble. "I'm here for the Prophet, and you're here for answers to your little love-puppy's past. So lets just cooperate and get this over with."

"Why Sabretooth, I've never heard you this reasonable," Xavier quipped softly, and he motioned for Scott to push him forward. Wisely, Scott positioned the Professor between the two mortal adversaries, while Logan bristled at the blonde's condescending tone.

"Look," Avalanche stepped forward as well, moving up to stand beside Sabretooth in a bold bid for the dominance of the moment. "We just want to find Kylie, to bring her home." Creed's eyes shifted to glance once at the boy, but returned after a moment to focus on Logan.

"This may work out for our benefit," Xavier mused softly. "Can you and Wolverine put aside your differences long enough to seek out our missing members?" The question was pointed at Sabretooth, even though Xavier already knew the answer. Behind him, Logan shifted uncomfortably, glowering. "You two have the best chance of getting inside the buildings unseen. While Cyclops and the rest, cause a distraction with Tradys, and attempt to… perhaps pressure some information out of him?"

There was a gleam in his eye that Scott knew well. Cyclops nodded, and glanced at the Brotherhood boys. He'd attempted to play leader with them once before, and it hadn't worked out well. This time, he was just supposed to keep them busy. Busy destroying things apparently.

Xavier was the only one who was aware of Storm's quiet approach from the rear. Kitty and Kurt merged with the group the seeming ease, even though Kitty couldn't help but glare in Lance's direction. Ororo lay her hand gently on Hank's shoulder as she moved forward to stand between he and Logan.

"There is a building to the north, older than the rest. It sounded as though there were screams coming from within." Even with Ororo's natural gentleness, the news still hit both feral's hard, worst case scenarios drifting through their minds. Finally, they begrudgingly agreed to assist one another.

--------------- ---------------- ---------------- ----------------- ----------------- ----------------

So it came about that Xavier remained behind at the Blackbird, with Beast, monitoring the progress of all individuals. The Scarlet Witch, Toad, and Quicksilver stalked after Cyclops and Jean, while the rest moved out to check on various other buildings. There was no room for subtlety in Cyclops' mind any longer; he burst into the main lobby of the mental institute without a care. Civilians scattered, most breaking for the front door, while a few others ducked into side rooms. On his heels, Jean frowned in concentration, seeking Tradys' mental signature through the hospital as he scurried around.

"He's ended up in his office," she whispered softly, as Cyclops paused for a moment. Ahead of them, Wanda and Toad were gleefully taking care of the few security officers and orderlies that had showed up. Quicksilver was at their side occasionally, moving so quickly he seemed to disappear from one point, and reappear at another.

Cyclops herded them all with practiced ease, though he had to dodge a few hexes thrown in his direction. As they turned the corner into the hallway that Tradys' office was located at, everything seemed to fall dead silent. Their foot falls no longer made noise, nor did the creak and rustle of their clothing. Jean scowled, and mouthed a few words. Beneath his visor, Scott's brow furrowed. No sound had exited Jean's throat.

Glancing behind them, it seemed that Tolensky was taking this opportunity to mouth a serious string of explicatives in Quicksilver's general direction. Cyclops held up his hand to stopped the four others, as he tried to puzzle out the whys. He didn't have to puzzle for too long, as two figures stepped out of opposing rooms.

They both wore hospital gowns, pale blue knee-length things, with the name of the mental hospital embroidered over the heart. The girl was horribly scarred, her face was a mass of melted flesh, that had sealed one eye forever closed, her right arm was curled uselessly against her chest, and her right leg was held straight by a series of metal braces around her thigh and knee. The single eye that was visible rolled occasionally, unfocused and bloodshot.

The man, slightly older than his companion, was in much better condition. He bore tattoos along both arms, yet rivulets of fresh scarlet leaked out of his hair and traced marks down his face. His hair seemed to be the problem, as he possessed a proverbial crown of thorns with the long, needlelike structures buried deep within his scalp. His eyes were lucid, focused, and latched right upon Jean.

He motioned once, and it began. Thousands of vines shot up from the floor, and walls, wrapped in thick red leaves, and savage inch-long thorns. They sprouted from beneath the feet of the mutants without so much as a sound. Quicksilver bolted into action, spinning around in place while the vines bounced harmlessly off the pocket of air he was creating by his rapidity. The Witch lobbed successive hexes into the briars, and grew relieved as they forgot their targets and milled listlessly about. Toad put his acrobatics to good use as he dodged thrusting vines, by bouncing off the wall and even, at one point, clinging precariously to the ceiling.

Jean lifted herself and Scott above the fray in a telekinetic bubble. Scott was taking aim against the man, when the second assault slammed into their minds. The girl had focused, only for a single second, and every sound that had transpired since their movement into the hallway, came slamming into their skulls in the span of a single heartbeat. Everyone staggered in agony, clutching their heads, and raised their voices in unison, screaming their pain out. Jean swore she heard a giggle echo within her ringing ears.

Jean's temper flared as first Wanda, then Toad were grabbed by the puncturing vines. Toad yelped and whined, kicking feebly against the thorns that tore through his jeans, and threatened to strip the skin from his shins. Wanda threw hex after hex, rapidly feeling the strain, while the thorns couldn't get through the smart leather outfit she always wore on these occasions. Jean's red hair floated around her for a minute, as she focused her telepathy upon the two. With a single sharp, jab, the girl fell, telepathically subdued with the force of Jean's willpower. The sound returned to normal in the hallway, the reverberating echo slowly fading away.

Cyclops freed the two trapped Brotherhood mutants, with focused blasts of his power. Then he turned his attention to the male mutant ahead of them, one well aimed shot clipped the guy in the temple, and sent him spinning into oblivion beside the scarred girl. Pietro and Scott tossed the two unconscious ones back into their respective rooms, and Scott only paused long enough to weld the metal door shut with the heat from his visor. Grinning grimly, he shoved Tradys' office door wide open.

Tradys appeared to have been expecting them. He sat behind his desk, slumped forward while his forehead rested in his hands. Between his elbows, resting upon a sheaf of loose paper, lay a small revolver. It's chamber was cracked open, as though it had been abandoned halfway through the loading process. He looked up slowly as the door opened, his dark eyes tired and resigned.

"I knew you would be back," he said quietly, shoulders heaving in a silent added sigh. "People like you always find out the truth. I tried to keep her safe, I really did. I thought she would be safe with Vincent."

Cyclops choked back a sound, while Jean stepped forward. "Vincent? You mean Vincini? You _gave_ your daughter to him?"

"He was supposed to protect her!" Tradys' large hands slapped hollowly upon the desk as he stood up. "To keep her away from Essex, so the man wouldn't hurt her anymore!"

"Essex? Ya mean the crazy freak what's been after Kylie?" Toad piped up from the back as he piqued. "So where's Kylie, yo? We find her, we blow his pop stand."

"The McManus girl?" Tradys eyes narrowed for a moment. "She's here too? Essex didn't mention her."

"Why did you lie to us earlier?" Cyclops demanded, unhappily.

"Essex was listening in then. I couldn't risk him knowing I was going to help my girl escape again." As if at some private joke, Tradys laughed softly. "My girl. She'll be twenty-eight in November… hardly a girl anymore." As he moved around his desk, the gathered mutants tensed up. "Please, let me help you. I know where they're keeping Alexia. And I think I know what Essex may be doing with Ms. McManus."

--------------- ---------------- ---------------- ----------------- ----------------- ----------------

They couldn't decide who would lead and who would follow. Neither man had spoken a word since they climbed through the half-open window. Their bickering was completely posture, and glances, and, boy, did the two of them have some nasty glares. It felt like the entire upper levels of the mansion-like building were empty. A thin coating of dust coated the floor, making signs of their passage extremely visible. Creed wanted to go down, while Logan insisted on checking every room on the top three floors. At each set of stairs, they exchanged venomous glares, and stared one another down.

Sometimes, Creed won, and they bypassed rooms, but other times, Logan got the better hand, and a very thorough search was conducted. Creed could feel the time crawling by like the sweat the crept down his face. As they were faced with the final door, the door that would presumably lead them down into the basement, Creed tilted his head to one side slightly. In less than a second, Logan had adopted the same pensive expression. They could both hear it. Screaming. A low, muffled sound coming from below.

Creed reached forward and wrapped his giant hand around the knob, turning it slowly. And then it was there, like a bullet lodged inside his brain that was fighting to work its way against his healing factor. His hand convulsed on the grip, muscles all the way up his arm spasming as he felt the intruder crawling inside his mind. In a moment, it resolved itself, however, into no intruder, but the very presence and sense of the young Prophet, filling his thoughts. And she was begging incoherently for help, it seemed. Rage pumped through his system, blinding him to Logan's quiet growl.

The door was fully in Creed's hands when he came to his senses, the metal crumpled and twisted by the force that he ripped it from its moorings. He stared at the metal shape as he fought to resolve the residual thoughts, the memory of Kylie's frantic cries. Finally, he managed to force himself to release the door, tossing it loudly to one side. Logan groaned at the clatter of metal against metal.

"I know where she is. Follow me," Creed snarled, and struck out down the hallway before Logan could even get a chance to respond. After a second's hesitation, Logan began to run in Creed's wake, wondering just how far they would get before resistance began. Oddly, nothing stepped out of the nearby doorways, or corridors. Sounds followed them, as they passed rooms obviously occupied by patients. Chains rattled, strange gutteral howls rolled after them. But Creed led his mortal enemy unerringly through the maze of corridors, until he pulled up short just before one particular room.

Creed sniffed, scenting the air and pacing momentarily back and forth like a caged animal. She was here, h e could smell her. He could practically taste her fear in the air. Logan's nose wrinkled slightly as he too, picked up the scent. There was a soft _skinkt _as Wolverine's claws popped out of their housing upon his forearms.

"There's a quieter way to open doors," he growled softly at the big blonde. The length of his claws inserted around the door jam and slide effortlessly around the three sides. Creed caught the door as it loosened in its moorings, and once more, set it to the side.

Gloom greeted their eyes, giving both ferals a pause before they stepped within. Once their eyes had adjusted to the gloom, they peered inside, Creed looking left, Logan peering right. Creed froze, and wished that he hadn't looked. Reaching back, he grabbed Logan's arm, to call his attention to the one-way mirror that dominated the left wall.

The sight through the mirror made Creed tremble with fury. His hands balled so tightly that his own claws dug into the soft flesh of his palm. Kylie was alone in the adjacent room, dirty and tattered, her clothes and arms still bearing scorch and burn marks from the explosion of her Jeep. She was standing directly in front of the mirror, her eyes wide, and unfocused. Her mouth constantly formed words that neither feral mutant could hear, but they were words that drove her hand.

She was writing on the walls. In fact, the mirror seemed to be the only surface that she had not filled yet. It was Logan's turn to grab Creed's arm, to prevent him from jumping to rash action, as it became apparent just what Kylie was using to write with. She paused, only long enough to bite the fingertips of her left hand, feverishly consumed by the need to write to finish whatever obscure thing she was scrawling in her own blood.

"It's a formula," Logan breathed quietly, as he watched the reverse of her writing. "A complex one." Logan nearly staggered as Creed wrenched his arm away.

"Don't care," he grunted, and put the full force of his weight behind a punch to the mirror. The material bowed beneath the blow, but did not break. Logan simply stared until Sabretooth resorted to using his claws, ripping and tearing at the substance until it began to spiderweb and crack. Upon the other side, Kylie carried on as though the wall had never moved, her entire body was twitching as she poured out her mind onto the canvas. Finally, Logan popped his claws once more, and levered Sabretooth aside. Excising a clean hole in the mirror with the adamantium, Logan stepped back to let the larger man through first.

What unfolded before him, froze the mutant in his tracks, as he could only stare in disbelief at the expression that his mortal enemy wore.

It bordered somewhere between fear, and uncertainty. Never had Sabretooth looked more vulnerable than the moments that he was looking at the girl called Prophet. Creed stretched his hands out, moving them to place one upon each of her shoulders, when she suddenly spun, and slapped him full on in the face.

"No!" she shouted. "Have to finish!" There was something horribly strained in her voice, something that raised the hairs on the back of Logan's neck. Creed snarled low in his throat, but he didn't attack the girl. His face obviously stung from the slap, and he struggled to control the temper that surged within him.

"Frail! Kylie!" He began to call her name, hoping she would respond to him. But the girl faced the mirror once more, savagely tearing at her fingertips with her teeth until fresh blood flowed. The feverish glaze in her eyes perhaps made Logan think she was drugged. Cautiously, the short mutant stepped through the hole in the mirror.

"We gotta get her to the Prof," he warned in a low tone. Creed didn't seem to react, but he began to approach the girl again.

"I promised I'd take care o'ya… so.. I'm sorry 'bout this," Sabretooth apologized before he struck, hitting her low in the back with the full force of his fist. Kylie crumpled like a little rag doll, her legs gone numb from the blow. In one swift move, Creed had her cradled in his arms, his nostrils flaring as he tried to resist the siren call of his bloodlust. Kylie's fingers wouldn't stop moving, tracing equations in the air, and upon Creed's arm. But she whimpered, and curled the fingers of her right hand, loosely around the lapel of his jacket.

_Chuck, we got the girl._ Logan directed his thought outward, to find the telepath.

Xavier responded with a mental smile. _Good. Bring her to the Blackbird. Cyclops and Jean have found where they are keeping Carnal._

_

* * *

_ Post Note: Be sure to read the other half of this intermingled plot. Carnal's story or Kylie's story, depending on which you've read first!


	7. Chapter 7

Sinister Secrets

Part 2

Logan paused before relaying the mental command to Creed. Something on the wall caught his eye. Stepping further into the small chamber, Logan turned slowly in a full circle. Amid the equation were diagrams, a female form laid out as a Da Vinci model. Arrows pointed here and there to parts, areas were circled with notations as to something being located there, an apparently random string of four letters. "A", "G", "C" and "U". Logan bit his lower lip as Creed began to carry Kylie from the chamber.

Finally, he made a snap choice. "Creed, get her back to Xavier. In the Blackbird. I'm going for Carnal."

Creed only grunted, holding Kylie's head against his shoulder protectively. Within moments, the big mutant was long gone, and Logan remained alone with the formulae. He didn't know all that much about what he saw there, but he prayed, that what he suspected wasn't true. Putting out a mental call for Jean, Logan jumped back through the hole in the mirror, and headed off in the opposite direction Creed took.

---------------------- ------------------------ ------------------------- --------------------------------

Kitty Pryde was upset. Mostly because she was being forced to work with Avalanche, but her surroundings made things no easier on her. According to the directions that Jean was relaying to Storm, their new shapeshifter friend was locked away down in one of the many tunnels connecting the various buildings of the complex. Ororo was beginning to get uneasy; her claustrophobia was fighting valiantly against her leadership skills. How deep did the tunnels go? Just how far down was the laboratory located? And just when would Jean, Cyclops and Wolverine join the expedition?

Moments after she wondered it, a side-tunnel disgorged Jean and Cyclops. They had been running full tilt, and skidded to a stop slightly out of breath. Lance scowled beneath his face-shield. The other Brotherhood mutants were no longer dogging their footsteps.

Jean took a few moments to catch her breath, before waving everyone forward again. "Let's keep moving, we don't have any time to waste."

Lance's mouth popped open for a smart-alecky remark, but Kitty shoved her elbow hard into his ribs, forcing him to dance aside with a muffled curse. Glaring at the petite brunette as she jogged past him, Lance continued to mutter under his breath, and finally dogged after the X-Men's footsteps.

Ororo was struck with it first. The floor seemed to tilt beneath her feet; her head spun violently out of whack. She tried to put one foot before the other, but the floor shifted again, in the other direction, and she went down, hard. Barely catching herself with her hands, Storm tried to shake the dizzy spell off. But a string of confused cries caught her attention, glancing back, Storm witnessed as all the teens swayed on their feet, some falling, some catching themselves on the stark metal walls.

"Did you really think you could just waltz in here and take the prize?" The voice was sarcastically feminine, bouncing off the walls so it seemed to come from all around them. "It's amazing what a little technology will do…"

A trio of figures shimmered into view. The speaker stood at the forefront, her hands on her hips. Her hair was a myriad of shades, ranging from gold to green in stripes and swirls and patches. Her eyes were indefinable, as any attempt to meet that gaze was met with another wave of vertigo. One of the two men flanking her held a small box, which began to shift and change before their confused eyes. Where he had held a box with dials a moment before, the man hefted a large submachine gun the moment after. Though his face wore no expression, his eyes held a smirk of triumph. The final man was small, dark featured, and glistening with a sheen of sweat. He laughed.

"Hit 'em again, Vertigo.. I like watchin' 'em fall," came the grimaced remark. Vertigo joined him in laughter, and raised a single hand toward the fallen X-Men.

Storm had shaken her head somewhat clear, and saw the threat impending. Flinging her own hand out, she adjusted the air-pressures in the narrow corridor, to create a gale-force wind, aimed in the trio's direction. The sudden gust swept Vertigo off her feet before she could use her powers, while the two men hunkered down with their arms before their faces. Miraculously, they withstood the blast, by only being pushed backward a few feet.

The submachine gun rattled loudly in the hallway. It fired not bullets, but searing points of energy that hit the walls and melted right through the metal and stone. Nightcrawler vacated the vicinity in a flash of light and sound, while Kitty lunged forward to grab both Avalanche and Storm, phasing them both out before they could be hit. Jean protected Cyclops with a telekinetic shield, causing a few of the energy projectiles to rebound away.

Nightcrawler reappeared beside the man with the gun, and quickly grabbed the barrel of the weapon. "**_Auf Wiedersehen_!" **he quipped with a cheery wave, before teleporting away once more, removing the entire gun from the man's hands.

"Riptide, get them!" The man snarled taking a full step back. He lowered his hands to part of his armor, and the metal began to ripple and reshape beneath his touch. The woman was shaking off the gale-force blow, and she waved a hand in the direction of the X-Men.

Another debilitating wave of dizziness rocked through them all. Jean wavered in mid-air, and Cyclops was only just able to catch her. Kitty cried out, and fell atop Storm, while Lance dropped to his knees. Kurt popped in, and popped back out just as fast, leaving behind him a stench of brimstone. He popped up behind Vertigo once more, and did the first thing he could think of. He grabbed her multi-colored hair, and yanked as hard as he could.

She let loose a screech, and swung an elbow in his direction. Meanwhile, the man called Riptide had spun up to full power, literally. His body was a blurred vortex, leaving only his head visible above the tornado's top. Suddenly, things began to fly out of the vortex, sticking into walls with heavy-sounding thunks, and whizzing past ears and bodies quicker than could be seen.

One grazed across Avalanche's shoulder armor, leaving a deep gouge in the metal. His eyes growing wide with mortal terror, Lance dug down deep inside him and twisted his fists in the air. The earth began to rumble, the floor started shaking. Kitty cried out.

"Lance, don't!" She grabbed his arm, breaking his concentration. "You'll bring the whole place down on top of us!"

Growling, Lance shook her off, and redirected his efforts. The techno-master nearly had his second weapon completed, so Avalanche pointed his fist in the man's direction, and sent a shock-wave of force to knock him off his feet. Once he was down, Storm stretched out a hand, and called a lightning bolt out of thin air to incapacitate him. The thunder in the closed space was nearly deafening.

Vertigo was reeling from Nightcrawler's constant teleporting. The stench was almost enough to make her gag, but it was the hair-pulling that infuriated her. The thunderclap left her ears ringing savagely, and she was unable to pinpoint Nightcrawler's next teleport. Kurt appeared right beneath her, and hit her with a teeth-rattling uppercut.

Riptide was still laughing. "Get that close to me, and you'll get cut to ribbons!" He spun towards the main group of mutants, flinging a volley of knives from within the vortex. Cyclops managed to spear most of them with his optics before they reached anyone, but when he turned the ruby blast on the actual vortex, it reflected, punching a divot in the metal wall nearby.

Kitty almost screamed as a pair of arms scooped her up from behind. "Let's go, half-pint," Logan growled right in her ear. He was sprinting right for the swirling vortex of doom, with Kitty tucked securely beneath his left arm. She acted reflexively, phasing both of them insubstantial.

With a roar, Logan jumped into the vortex to confront a startled Riptide. Once inside, he dropped Kitty so that he was solid once more. As she began to sink out of sight, she could see the flesh of Logan's arms getting torn to shreds, but not before those claws had unsheathed right into Riptide's guts.

Kitty re-emerged from the floor, breathless, in time to watch the vortex disappear, and the dark man to drop solidly to the ground, a pool of scarlet spreading from his back. Wolverine's arms were already healing, the slashes and cuts puckering together into pink scars, which just as rapidly faded into nothing.

Cyclops never figured he'd have been so happy to see the man in his life. But Wolverine wasted no time in greetings, as he leaned down to pick Storm back up to her feet. Swiveling slightly, Logan jabbed a thumb at Jean.

"Make sure they ain't wakin' up anytime soon," he ordered before continuing to stalk down the hallway.

------------- ------------------ ------------------ ------------------ ---------------- --------------------

She had never been more terrified in her life. She was tied down, humiliated and spread-eagle upon a cold metal slab. Two men constantly circled her; they both watched her carefully. One possessed slanted, almond-shaped eyes, and skin that was more yellow than her own. His clothes were crisp, and clean, and smelt freshly laundered. Well, she had been able to smell that, before he had touched her. The contact between his skin and hers had been agony, as though everything in her body had wanted to shut down all at once.

And no matter how hard she tried, she could not get her hands to reshape, to slim out, so she could escape these bonds. She could not smell the fresh soap, or the antiseptic of the clean room. Nothing worked. That scared her more than the array of cutting objects that lay close by her right side.

The second man was more frightening in a way. He wore a perfectly white coat, his hair was cut the perfect length to accent the widow's-peak descending his forehead. A small mark lingered between his brows, like a scar, in a perfect diamond-shape. The second man's eyes shifted constantly between different screens located on the farthest wall of the chamber.

"Threnody, tell me my Marauders have succeeded?" he asked suddenly, of a cloaked figure seated before the monitors.

The figure shook its head. "Arclight still follows the one who stole the Prophet. Riptide, Vertigo and Headhunter have all fallen."

The man snarled. "Send in Harpoon, and Blockbuster. I want them stopped."

"Yes, Lord Essex." Threnody nodded slightly, and leaned over the keyboard.

Essex paced once more, between the monitors and the table. Once by the table, he paused and reached out to run a pale hand along Carnal's cheek. "I only have half my answer," he purred softly. "But perhaps that is enough…"

Carnal could only whimper as he lifted the first of many implements from the tray beside her.

------------------ ----------------------- -------------------- ---------------------- -------------------

"This intersection isn't part of the map," Jean muttered peering left, then right down the two forks before her. "It's supposed to continue straight ahead, for at least another hundred yards." A dark line appeared as her brows knit together. She hated thinking that they had been duped, when Tradys had seemed so sincere.

Cyclops followed Jean's gaze down both forks. "We'll just have to split up." He decided. "Storm, take Avalanche, Nightcrawler and Jean up the left fork. Wolverine, Shadowcat and myself will take the right fork. Keep an open channel, Jean, we'll call if we find anything."

The redhead nodded, her lips pursing as she wished Cyclops to be careful. With a slight laugh, she figured that he was in good hands, with Logan to protect him, and Kitty to keep his spirits up. Storm nodded and motioned for Lance to follow after Jean. The Brotherhood boy cast a furtive glance at Kitty, but found she ignored him like always.

With a huff, Avalanche set off after the other three members of his impromptu group. And shoved all thoughts of stupid mundane life into the back of his head.

------------- -------------------- -------------------- ------------------- ---------------------

Sabretooth was being followed. And he couldn't do a thing about it. He had known of his pursuant since he kicked down the front door of the building, and burst into the forests dappled sunlight. He had to keep Kylie safe, that was his first, and all consuming thought. She was so small and light, that he could cradle her against his chest with one arm, allowing his other free to push aside branches and protect her head from the few he couldn't get in time.

And he ran. As fast as his long, loping stride could take him, he ran. The runt had told him to bring the girl back to the X-Men's jet. Creed knew, reluctantly, that, in the presence of the telepath, would be the safest place for her. Suddenly, out of the forest before him, was something blue and furry, and nearly as wide as Creed himself.

The Beast. Hank McCoy. Creed pulled up short, before running the blue furry one over. Both of his hands curled around Kylie protectively, as Creed struggled to regain his breath. Beast glanced into the forest behind him, expecting a hundred demons on his tail. He was rewarded in the moment of silence, with a tremendous crash and the splintering sound of a felled tree. Creed felt his lips twist into a wry grin.

"Look…" Creed began, gently disengaging Kylie's death grip from his neck. "Get her back to Cue-ball. I'm gonna take care of that jabroni, quick and get back to ya."

There was almost a reverence in how Beast took the girl from him. Something in the way Creed had been holding her hinting at the preciousness of this particular cargo. Once she was secure in Beast's arm, Creed reached out once more to smooth a stray curl away from her face. He scowled as he turned away slipping away into the forest like a ghost.

Beast turned as well, and carefully carried the girl back toward the Blackbird. Her fingers reached up, wrapping into the thick fur that covered his chest. She struggled to open her eyes, but they showed only white upon each of her attempts. Beast tried to talk to her, to soothe and relax her, as he made his way up the ramp of the jet.

"Don't…. let 'im.." She rasped out at one point. "Death… darkness… everyone.. sick… Stop Legacy.."

"Stop what? And who, child?" Xavier inquired as he rolled into meet them in the Medbay. Beast shook his head, she had lapsed into unconsciousness again. Beast began to bandage her hands and fingers, while Xavier settled in to set up the other monitors. He brushed her forehead with his fingertips, trying to soothe her.

------------- ------------------ --------------------- ------------------ ---------------------- ------------

Creed took to the treetops. The massive pines didn't really afford him good cover, but he figured whoever dared to follow him wouldn't be looking up. Or expecting an attack from above. It didn't take him long to spot him. Or rather.. her. She was probably about Creed's size, with a rippling wall of muscle, and barely any hint that she was female. She sported a mohawk nearly a foot tall, and had apparently felled nearly a half dozen trees with her bare hands.

Creed's lips twisted into a grin as he prepared for a delicious showdown. Mentally counting to three, he then launched himself from his branch with a roar. The woman looked up at the sound, and an expression of sheer surprise passed over her features, right before Creed hit her full force with both fists.

----------- -------------- ---------------- ----------------- ----------------- ---------------------- -----

"Pan the Prophet's cell again. There must be something I am missing." Essex snarled as he leaned over Threnody's chair once more. His hands were stained deep red, causing Threnody to lean slightly away from him. Her fingers were thin and reedy as she stretched them forth from the cloak to turn a dial and thumb a switch. The main monitor showed a slow pan of the blood-writing scrawled over the walls of the cell. Quietly to himself, Essex mumbled softly.

Threnody's eyes watched the other screens as well. She watched Arclight's battle with the massive mutant known as Sabretooth. She saw Blockbuster and Harpoon engage the would-be rescuers, but furrowed her brow at two other monitors that showed nothing but static.

"Lord Essex," she whispered before me moved away. A wavering gesture at the two monitors brought Essex's attention to bear. He scowled. "We are being approached," Threnody murmured, as she hit a few buttons and called up other camera views. As she had feared, around a nearby corner, three figures emerged, after a momentary brilliant ruby flash, that screen as well, went to static.

"Lower the blast doors, Threnody. No one can get to my little virus lab." As the lab was cut in half by the foot thick walls of steel, Essex straightened his lab coat, and stepped back. "Threnody, Scrambler, they are all yours."

The Asian Scrambler glanced over as Threnody began to get up from her seat. When he glanced back to ask Essex one more question, he found the good doctor had melted into the darkness.


	8. Chapter 8

Sinister Secrets

Part Three

Scrambler remained apart from Threnody, touching her would be detrimental for the both of them. His fingertips tingled, eager to see what sort of powers he would have to mess around with. Threnody meanwhile began to charge up. She fed off of pain, taking that purely visceral sensation and turning it slowly into a plasma charge. There was certainly no shortage of it, being surrounded by Essex's experiments. Her hands began to glow faintly.

Oddly enough, they didn't break through the door. Instead, the trio of intruders simply walked straight through the wall. Threnody clapped her hands together, pointed her thumb and forefinger like a gun, and let fly with her first plasma charge. It exploded harmlessly in midair, shot down by a ruby blast.

Kitty had barely managed to let them go, before Cyclops and Wolverine were both on the offensive. Wolverine instantly went after the Asian, who dodged his first few blows like an old pro. Cyclops hit the dark-skinned lady with a few well aimed shots, causing her to spin around, and collapse over the chair. Scrambler feinted with a jab, and managed to somehow catch Wolverine with an uppercut. Bare skin contacted, and Wolverine felt like someone had poured Tabasco sauce under his flesh. Unleashing a howl of rage, Wolverine went into overdrive before anyone could stop him. In moments, Scrambler was lying bleeding on the floor.

Kitty managed to wedge herself between the unconscious Threnody and the bank of monitors. She found Jean and the others mopping up after their own little skirmish, while on another monitor, outside, Sabretooth calmly threw someone's body into the trees. The scream of metal against metal brought her attention back around to this current room. Wolverine was trying to claw his way past a set of shiny metal doors, without any luck.

"Kitty," Scott didn't have to say much more. Phasing her hands, Kitty passed them both through the console deck before her. The electronics popped and fizzled, and with a hiss of hydraulic pressure, the doors began to move. Cyclops readied his visor, his fingertips on the lever that would open the quartz shutter to unleash his devastating optic blasts. Wolverine crouched down low, teeth bared, and claws at the ready. The doors seemed to take an agonizingly long time to open.

No adversary rose to greet them; the only sign someone had been in the room was the crumpled white lab coat on the floor, spattered and stained with blood. Logan lunged forward, covering the distance to the operating slab in a single bound. His hand came down upon a cloud of charcoal-colored hair, while his other gripped the edge of the slab.

"No... no..." he whispered, unable to make a louder sound.

Kitty stepped up beside Scott, and both were reluctant to venture further. After a moment, Scott put his arm around her, and squeezed gently. Logan began to lower his head, his brow furrowing. The damage to Carnal's body was... beyond severe. She lay naked and humiliated, cut open from her sternum to her pelvis. She had been closed clumsily, the cut up parts of her flesh hastily pinched together. Bloody hand prints still lingered on the stainless equipment.

Vivisected. The word Hank used lingered loudly in his ears. Logan's fist tightened around her hair. But then, so softly, he believed at first that he was dreaming, he heard a tiny whimper of pain. The smooth lines of Carnal's face screwed up. His eyes widening, Logan looked abruptly at Scott and Kitty.

"Get someone! Get anyone!" he shouted, voice gone hoarse from stress.

Kitty jumped, phasing at the sudden noise. She grabbed Scott and dragged him away, running back through the corridors. Somewhere along the way, they joined back up with Ororo and the rest. One look at the panicked children, and Storm split off once more. Kitty forgot how mad she was at Avalanche for a moment, and threw her arms around him, in a tight hug. Confused, Lance hugged her gently.

"We need to get Beast," Scott urged them forward, bringing the students surging up into the sunlight finally.

Meanwhile, down below, Logan held tight to Carnal's hand as she whimpered softly. He'd broken the shackles holding her down, and wrapped her as gently as he could in the bloodied surgical sheets. When Storm swept into the room, he looked up, more stricken than she had ever seen. She brought with her a cool breath of air, stirring the stagnant coppery stench.

"She's trying to heal herself," Storm breathed quietly as she skated her fingertips over the girl's feverish brow. "Can we move her?"

"Do we have a choice?" Logan grunted. He felt like he was the bad guy suddenly. "Where's Hank?"

Ororo shook her head slightly. Hank was still topside, aboard the Blackbird. Grinding his teeth, Logan wrapped the supine girl tighter into the cloth, fighting to ignore her squeak of pain. Storm remained stroking her hair, and forehead, trying to keep Carnal calm. Her eyes opening once, golden orbs rolling around frantically in her head. In one motion, Logan scooped her up.

"Don't you give up on me, girl," he growled under his breath. "We still got things to do."

* * *

"They're bringing her," Jean murmured quietly. The X-Men, and Brotherhood were all gathered at the base of the boarding ramp. Hank was prepping another of the med-bays in the Blackbird. Inside, Sabretooth's broken jaw had already healed, along with his cracked ribs and fractured hand. He sat subdued, slumped forward with his elbows on his knees, and his hands clasped loosely. The world seemed to move around him, while he waited for the Prophet to open her eyes.

He barely looked up when Logan came in bearing a bloody-smelling bundle. He listened to the amazed utterances, and the quick work of the Beast, and only when he was sure they were all occupied, did he venture a hand to brush against Kylie's arm. The corners of her lips turned into a smile, but she never opened her eyes. Creed left his hand there, loosely on her arm.

"Let our truce continue," Xavier was saying close by. "The Brotherhood is welcome to ride home with us."

"Yeah," Lance murmured. "Yeah, we'd like that."

Creed became aware of another figure by his side. Glancing down, he saw Toad crouched by him. The teenager never raised his head or met his eyes, he only reached up and dared to pat Kylie's hair gently. With his eyes still averted, Todd Tolensky offered a pale smile, and hopped out of the way. Creed remained like a rock while around him the teenagers all got settled. At the med-bay berth beside Kylie's, Logan hung back from the scene.

"Runt." Creed knew how to get his attention. As the other feral turned to him, Creed made a small gesture with his chin, indicating the girl in the berth. "Didja get him?"

Logan waited a few moments, while Summers cruised by toward the cockpit. The kid would get them all home safely, he was sure of it. Finally, he shook his head. "Essex got away."

Creed grunted in reply, his hand automatically curling loosely around Kylie's wrist. He didn't bait Logan any further, choosing to keep the tenuous peace that existed in the jet. If Essex was still out there, Kylie still needed him. If Kylie still needed him, he still had a promise to keep. Reaching up with his other hand, he smoothed her thick curls away from her face.

Xavier paused beside him, on his way toward the cockpit. Creed paid him no attention, even after Xavier reached out to lay a hand upon his arm.

"You are welcome to stay, for as long as her recovery takes."

Sabretooth lowered his head, but didn't answer. Xavier wheeled a few feet further, and glanced back through the body of the jet. He wanted to soothe the worry, unravel the anxiety, but he knew that he shouldn't. With a soft sigh, he turned back into the cockpit, where Scott was firing up the jet's engine. Home seemed so far away.

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks for the patience! Revision 30 seems to be the one I'm most happy with, so... here it is! Separate epilogues to conclude each story, and then, it's whatever the muses say for the future! Enjoy, and thank you. ~S


	9. Chapter 9

Aftermath

Jean waited for everything to explode. The mixture was volatile. Sabretooth and Wolverine in the same house. The Brotherhood kids lurking around at all hours. The constant tension ringing everything they did and everything they said. Worst yet, it hadn't even been sixteen hours since they landed back at the mansion. Creed wouldn't leave, but then again, Xavier had extended him the option to stay as long as Kylie was out. The Brotherhood mutants had agreed to return home, but Toad pushed for the ability to visit Kylie when he wanted. Even Creed allowed him that.

Jean thought that Creed would blow when he found out that Carnal... Lexie... was up and around already. But he kept his own counsel. If it bothered him, he didn't express it in words. He stood quietly at the wall while Jean checked the precog's pulse. Xavier had already checked on her. She was still mentally inside, at least, that's what the professor claimed. Jean wasn't so sure.

Releasing Kylie's wrist, she looked back towards Victor Creed. Here stood a man so nasty, so violent that it churned her stomach to think of it, yet she couldn't help but feel sympathy for him. Leaned up against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, his long hair tamed into a ponytail, he looked like any other man faced with a daunting situation. Feeling her eyes on him, he raised his head, and fixed her with a steady blue-eyed gaze.

"Sorry," she apologized softly, stepping away from the bedside. She effectively relinquished his rightful place to him. When Creed didn't move immediately, Jean wondered if he had something to say.

For a few minutes, Creed simply looked, not at the redhead, but at the dark-haired girl lying supine in the hospital bed. He took a deep breath and pushed himself off the wall. For a moment, he paused before Jean, looking torn. Finally, he shook his head.

"What do I do?" The tremor in his voice shocked her. "Do I talk to her? Can she hear me? C'mon, Red, you gotta help me."

Jean bit her lower lip. He seemed to have a lot vested in her, either a severe punishment was hanging over his head, or this was a genuine show of concern and worry. Jean moved aside and gestured for him to sit. "She can hear you. Just keep talking to her. She'll come back; I'm sure of it."

She flickered a wan smile in his direction, as he lowered himself carefully onto the rolling stool at Kylie's bedside. He carefully curled his taloned fingers around Kylie's much smaller hand, before looking back up at Jean once more. "You better be right," he spoke quietly, the depth of his voice making her head seem to vibrate. "I made a promise."

He turned away from Jean again, leaving her with a view of his broad back. Carefully, Jean backed out of the door, letting it swing silently closed before her. She let out a breath she hadn't been aware of holding and steadied her trembling hands. The man was a brute, but much like Logan, he appeared to have a protective side. Turning slightly, she nearly ran into Hank, as he dropped down from the ceiling.

Suppressing a quiet yelp, she reached out and gave his blue fur a slight tweak. He smiled warmly and extended a hand toward the barely closed door. "How's our patient?"

"The same, I'm afraid. I don't understand it; she should have woken up by now." Jean sighed, crossing her arms over her stomach to quell the uneasy feeling growing there.

"Not necessarily. I've managed to isolate at least one of the compounds that she was drugged with. It's a heavy psychotrope, laced with other compounds that I haven't even begun to understand. Whatever else was in her system, it was designed to push her mutant powers beyond even her maximum." Hank McCoy sighed, and gestured Jean to move away from the door slightly. He couldn't take having Sabretooth overhear what else he had to say. Dropping his voice, he leaned in towards Jean. "There's no guarantee that when she wakes up, she'll even be sane."

Jean stared at him. What would happen then? Covering her mouth with her hands, she shook her head. "I hope that's worst-case scenario."

"You'd better hope it is."

Spinning, Jean saw the look on Sabretooth's face. How long had he been standing there? Obviously long enough to hear the worst of it. His lip curled with the anger flashing in his gaze. "I'll be coming to get her tomorrow. Get her some real help." Fists clenched at his sides, Victor Creed turned on his heel and stalked down the hallway.

Jean looked at Beast, who shrugged.

"Whoops?"

* * *

When Sabretooth returned the next day, he wasn't alone. Not only was he flanked by Mystique, but also by a craggy-faced older man. Jean knew instantly that he was another telepath, simply by the void of space she felt surrounding him. She stood, well, she supposed _guard_ was the proper term, outside Kylie's infirmary room, waiting for this moment. Xavier himself had escorted them through the mansion, and upon seeing Jean, raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"_Lexie's inside, with Logan._" Jean explained, silently. "_They wanted a few moments alone._"

Xavier nodded and turned his chair slowly towards Sabretooth. The big man's hands were curled loosely into fists; he seemed to vibrate with impatience. "It will be just a moment. Kylie has visitors, right now."

Creed glanced sharply at Mystique, who simply held up a hand in reply. Their communication was obviously facilitated by the presence of the telepath, because Creed bristled, but momentarily backed off. He stepped back away from the other two, leaning up against the wall, and assuming his customary stance of waiting. Arms crossed over his chest, chin lowered, eyes closed; he was the epitome of a predator waiting to strike.

"Please, forgive Sabretooth," Mystique offered only smiles for Xavier and Jean. "He's had a rough few weeks."

No one answered the obvious dig. Jean shifted as the tension in the silence rose quickly. Biting her lower lip, she waited for something to break it. Her expectation was served by the click of the infirmary room door opening. Logan stepped out first, and surveyed the room. From across the hall, he locked eyes with Sabretooth.

"Guess the party's started," he muttered, before clearing the door. Extending a hand behind him, he escorted Carnal out of the room. She moved gingerly still, her eyes darting around the gathered group nervously. Her nostrils flared as she caught scent of Sabretooth, and her grip on Logan's arm tightened.

Creed's gaze shifted from the staredown with Logan, to surveying the feral girl. He took a long deep breath, and pushed himself up from the wall. Instantly, both Xavier and Mystique moved to intercept his line, while Alexia squeezed between Logan and the wall. Wolverine's free hand curled into a fist, ready to pop his claws to end this ridiculous dance.

But Sabretooth made no move for the two of them. Instead, his hand snaked out over Mystique's shoulder to catch the door before it could swing shut. He curled his lip at her, and growled softly in her face. She knew that sound, yet she held her place for a few seconds. When it was clear that she was backing down out of choice, and not intimidation, Mystique stepped away.

"Mastermind and I will await you outside." She told him, smoothing a hand over her hair. "No need to show us out, Charles... I know the way." As she turned, her body changed, her form and coloring became more natural. After a few moments, she was simply another woman, dressed in business attire.

Xavier glanced at Logan, who nodded slightly. Giving Alexia a slight tug, he took her away down the hall. Sabretooth had already ducked into the room, leaving Jean at the doorway. She made room for Xavier as he guided his wheelchair through.

"She is as ready as she can be for transport, Sabretooth. I am truly sorry that there is no more we can do for her."

The big man was standing poised at the bedside, his hands loose and hanging by his sides. She looked no different than before, sleeping peacefully, her curls all carefully brushed and laid out on the pillow around her. What few machines she had been hooked up to, now lay silent and dormant around the room. Creed looked torn; in his silence he seemed to be agonizing over the proper choice. Finally, he reached down, sliding one arm carefully under her shoulders. Slipping his other beneath her knees, Creed lifted her easily from the bed to cradle her against his chest.

Turning, he paused before looking down at Xavier. Creed only nodded at the telepath, before walking out the door. Outside, Jean was struck with how small Kylie looked in Creed's arms. She caught the man's gaze as he turned down the hallway. For a moment, she believed there was a man beneath the psychopathic personality. But she dismissed that thought as nothing more than worry for the precog. As an afterthought, Jean took a few steps down the hallway after him.

"Take care of her," she called out.

Creed paused to glance over his shoulder. He nodded with something like a smile. "Already promised her I would."

* * *

Kylie was swimming. She struggled against a tide that wanted to sweep her away, beneath the water. The current grabbed at her, pulled at her legs, yanked at her arms. It wanted to drag her down, keep her under, but she knew land wasn't far away. The current formed sigils and shapes in the water, swirling around her while she beat them away with her hands. The shapes were an equation; the sigils were a formula. She needed to get away from them.

Encouragement came in the form of sound. Soft rumblings from the land; a barely-heard voice whispering to her from the safety of the shoreline. Why couldn't the owner of that voice just jump in and rescue her? Why did she have to struggle alone against the water? She flailed, fighting to keep her head up, her hands stinging from slapping at the shapes surrounding her. She gasped for air, and for a moment, the current dragged her beneath the waves.

Underwater, it was worse. The shapes had voices, the sigils had edges. The screaming grew inside her chest, unable to break out for fear of swallowing the water. She fought, kicked, clawed her way until her head broke the surface once more.

Kylie awoke, screaming loud enough to wake four states from slumber.

Just as quickly as she was awake, someone grabbed her. Her reaction was instinctive, throwing her arms around whoever grabbed her, squeezing as tightly as she could. Her eyes screwed shut still; she struggled to take another breath. In the strange silence left in the wake of her scream, a voice broke through.

"You're safe, frail. You're safe."

_Frail_. Kylie felt the first sob escape her before she could catch it. The arms around her, the musky scent; she knew the warmth and strength of her protector without even opening her eyes. As she cried, Creed simply held onto her. Over the mussed curls, he met gazes with Mastermind, giving the older man a simple nod of acknowledgment. Whatever he'd done had brought Kylie back. That's all that mattered.


End file.
